Clear, bright, so much to see. Orion laid out as if it’s meant to be that way and not just some coincidental arrangement of stars. That night the universe was opened up right in front of me and I searched it for a suggestion that things would work out, that our plans for 2016 were going to come through. When I did hear something back it was my voice, me saying we were going to do it, we were going to make it happen. That was my mantra all through the early part of the year. On this night there was no echo of that epiphany, but only because I have no doubts. That version didn’t happen but there are so many things we have now because we committed to trying – leaving behind a job that I was terrible at, that was hurting me, freeing myself for a path that offers so many opportunities to find out what I want to commit to. We haven’t ended up where we wanted to but we are closer, we are closer to making something special happen and when you have a night sky as bright and as clear as this and you’re surrounded by so many stars and so much possibility it’s not hard to believe that anything is possible; and that we can do anything we commit to so long as we have that direction, keep going after that dream. Even if that dream takes longer, looks different than it did under that night sky 12 months ago. Because the reason that I turned to the stars, the reason I went searching for something to believe in, some sign or foundation to put my faith in, was that doing this is a daily, hourly challenge. Pushing for something special, something different, something that you can’t simply wait to be served up for you, it takes a level of arrogance and confidence and self-belief that I didn’t really have back then. I went looking for a galactic billboard telling me I was doing the right thing. And of course it was there, in the constellations, in the moon, in the deep and unreachable blackness of space – all real things, all realities that make the regular and the commonplace utterly irrelevant. Insignificant. And of course it was there in my own voice as the only reply from the cosmic vastness – my resolve. Tonight I looked up and was reminded as ever of the miracle of our hurtling through the solar system tethered to the back of a lump of rock, twinned neatly with another lump whose smaller size only emphasises our own minuscule existence. We shouldn’t be here, but we are. Perhaps things shouldn’t be as good for us as they are right now, but they are. I wish things had turned out the way we’d hoped, but they didn’t. But I don’t need evidence from the universe that I’m doing the right thing, that we are doing the right thing to be keeping on trying to make something happen, to not sigh and accept that things didn’t work out so let’s just go back to how things were. We couldn’t go back and we wouldn’t. I don’t need the night sky. No matter how beautiful. The only thing I need in order to believe that committing to what we’re trying to do is right is the fact of what we’ve managed so far.