Welcome to Writing in Company. Each week I share some words and a writing prompt, meant to be jumping-off points for you to write about what matters. Use the prompts however you likeāto journal, to draft thoughts for your own writing project, as meditation or prayer ideas, or for another creative endeavor. You can always look back through the archive for more ideas. Grab your pen and paper, and let your words loose on the page.
I was already in bed last Friday, tired from a long week of teaching, late night fun, and introverted extroverting. I took a last glance at my phone, and saw that the weatherman-I-always-believe1 had just posted āPlease get outside now and look at the northern lights in the Carolinas!!!!ā Without hesitation, I put on my shoes, stopped to grab some friends, and we hightailed it down the stairs and out onto the bridge over the dam at Montreat, North Carolina.
My vision isnāt great, and my phone is too old to do whatever other peopleās phones were doing, but standing under that dark sky, with those flickers and colors and other fortunate people feltā¦.holy. Weād just spent a week creating, playing, and praying together, talking about the Rhythms of Wonderāa theme that had been chosen for our conference2 almost two years earlierāwith this as the logo:
On our last night, we gathered under a sky full of wonder and rhythm, witnessing the aurora borealis. It was christened so in 1621 by a young Frenchman, Pierre Gassendi, combining the names for the Roman goddess of dawn, Aurora, and the Greek north wind Boreas.
Someone on the bridge that night tried to explain to me what was happeningāsomething about solar flares and electrons and different elements absorbing light from different parts of the color spectrumā and I nodded along. The science interests me, but I usually donāt remember it. What I will remember is more of what Maria Popova describes in her essay The Poetic Science of the Aurora Borealis:
ā¦I feel that the science of it ā this work of immense forces across immense distances, this work of the human imagination across a lineage of minds thirsting for truth ā only magnifies the magic of the celestial spectacle. Suddenly, we are plunged into a dazzling awareness of our cosmic origins and our connection to one another, each of us a link in the unbroken chain of time going back to Gassendi, back to the first human animal who looked up at the storm of color and was stilled with awe, back to the Big Bang that produced the particles roiling in the night sky. Whenever we gasp at an aurora, our lungs inhale molecules of air made of atoms forged in the first stars, and we are left wonder-smitten by reality ā the only way worth living.
Rhythms of wonder, indeed.
If you missed it because it was cloudy, or not near you, or you just plain didnāt knowāIām sorry to share another Northern Lights fan photo. But here is what a friend standing beside me captured on a magical holy night.
a writing prompt
Write about the Northern Lights, or about something in the sky that captivates you with wonder, or use this poem by J. Weaver, Jr. as a starting place.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F3ed1272d-500b-42b1-88f5-ed996dd77a22_672x618.png)
Take whatever time you have, and put some words on paper. Wonder can find rhythm on the page, too!
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Brad Panovich, chief meteorologist at the NBC station in Charlotte
Thank you for this prompt. And I love that last photo with the engraved quote!
The northern lights experience (that I missed because I didnāt know about itš©) brings to mind a memory I plan to write about:
I was 10 or 11, sleeping in the living room bunk of our cabin in northern Minnesota. My stepdad Gordy woke me up and carried me outside. I remember wearing a flannel nightgown, and I remember thinking I was too old and too big to be carried. But he walked me out to the pasture behind our cabin and pointed to the sky where I saw the most beautiful and ghostly light Iād ever seen: the Northern Lights in Northern Minnesota.
Now that Iām a parent, I more deeply understand that moment as a gesture of love and belonging, of not wanting me to miss out, and of finding joy in sharing new experiences with our kids.
Julie,
I am just stunned with wordless sounds and ālooksā that bring me to a deep, holy space. Thank you for these reminders of our Creator God who fills our lives with SO much peace and beauty.
JoAnne