While many people appreciate the products of astrophotography, i.e. beautiful photos of the celestial heavens, far fewer people are really interested in the process that leads to said photos.

Honestly, that’s okay.

To be fair, driving to the middle of nowhere so that you can be in the middle of nowhere to take pictures of the night sky with the hope that the weather will cooperate probably won’t sound super appealing to a lot of people.

I’ve asked people if they wanted to tag along with me on my excursions, but generally people have plans or tell me they really prefer sleeping as opposed to trouncing around in the wilderness in the dark. That’s fine–I am not offended.

However, I have found the whole astrophotography process to be pretty meditative.

When I am driving to a spot, I put on music I like to break the silence of the drive there. It gets me in the mood to to speak. Usually, I will pick something ambient for the drive.

When I get the spot, I set up my equipment and once that is done, I’m waiting for it to get dark. Normally, most people are leaving the area by this point or I am by myself. Rarely will other people stick around, but I have run into other astrophotographers out in the wilds of Colorado.

I may get the occasional question from a hiker or family leaving wondering why I am just arriving and I explain what I plan to do.

As it gets dark, that is when celestial objects start to appear–first a couple stars, then more and more. Planets shine brightly and appear as super vibrant stars. Soon, the Milky Way becomes visible.

Every time I see the Milky Way, I really am in awe of it.

Honestly, I like sitting on something–maybe the ground or a camping chair I brought with me or maybe I am sitting with the door open in my car or on a sturdy structure that happens to be in the area.

I am just looking into infinity. That is what it feels like to me.

I feel like I am witnessing something sacred and ancient. I am seeing something that existed long before I ever set foot on this Earth and will continue long after I pass away. I feel so small, but also intimately connected to everyone and everything. Carl Sagan once said we are made of star stuff–I think that is a great way of explaining how we are all interlinked in this thing called existence.

The things that worried me or bothered me me earlier–well, I start to revaluate. Maybe that thing I was obsessing over in my mind wasn’t that big of a deal and I need to let it go. Or maybe that thing that is kind of a big deal–well, let me revaluate the things that are in my control versus the things that are not in my control because I can only do so much.

I honestly couldn’t tell you the how of how I go through this process, I can only tell you that it happens.

Being in the wilderness is my sanctuary of sorts. Seeing the celestial bodies in the sky is my sermon of sorts.