The Probability of Heaven

This is a piece of creative nonfiction I wrote for my class. It's a creative writing course and I wanted to share the technique I had learned. If you want to know more about it drop me a line, I'll be happy to talk about it. If anyone can name what "

Truly the stars were given for a consolation to man

                      ~Henry David Thoreau

 

 

 

            The highway has no name. The earth below me could belong just as easily to Utah as it could to Arizona. I am ensconced in a desert of ambiguity; thank you, Mapquest.

 

            I lay on the hood of my ’97 Saturn. The disillusioned sheets of paper that left me here in the middle of God’s land lay forgotten on the passenger seat of my car. Everything I own is resting in the dormant vehicle under me and there’s only a quarter-tank left to power me out of this wilderness that I have been cutting through for the last eight hours with no sign of civilization.

 

Enough of that for now. Panic is for action, contemplation is for the doomed.

 

            So I gaze up at the stars, there are not a few, no, the whole cosmos is open in the night sky. The veil of light, the white noise of the city, has no place here, and I am a visitor to the wild. My eyes search the clusters and swirls of stars for the ones that keep me company in the city. The big dipper, Orion, Jupiter, none of them can hold their place in this galaxy for me.

 

            The next day I will be eating dinner with my family, my niece will be in my lap and the three sisters my mother raised will be in the same room for the first time in eight years. I will tell of my adventures on this path, of bison, coyote, and deer. My sister will hear of the coyotes and remind me of when we were children, and how we chanced upon a cougar on our fathers property. What were the odds of that, she’ll ask.

 

A star shoots past, my eyes try to trace the light. It disappears before I am even sure I saw it, far too fast for a wish.

 

            Two days after I will call my friend Igor and give him an earful for suggesting Mapquest in the first place. I will tell him of my night of danger and fear. I will not tell him about the night sky, I could prattle on for hours and never express this moment properly, and he is too impatient a person to try. I will tell him about the paths Mapquest led me through, and how many were closed due to the off-tourist season. Well, he’ll defend, what were the odds of that?

 

            The sky is so expansive here. I look past the atmosphere, past the winks of light, and for a moment I realize that I am not looking at a black sky, but deeper, into the absence of light.

 

            Two months later I will be having a conversation in a bar, one of the many that litter the beaches of Florida. I will sip on my Heineken and Mike will laugh about how Florida has once again grasped me with its claws and dragged me back to its obligations. I will look up at the sky, easily find the big dipper, and think of the desert. He’ll pat me on the head like he used to in high school when he wanted a bruise to his side (any female attention is good attention), then ask me what were the odds that I would be back here?

 

Can I make it to the next town? Is there a heaven above me tallying my chances? The odds play their hand so chaotically I don’t even equate them into my decision processes. I have never been good with probability, anyway.

 

            I am looking at the sky, where the stars are so amassed in their swirls and ribbons that I cannot tell one apart from the other. I cannot tell you which stars are dead, which are alive, which are near or far, or even which are stars and which are planets. The cold steel under me chills through my jeans, the winter desert air stings my lungs, yet the music echoed back through my Ipod keeps me warm.

 

            I look at the stars and it is no wonder to me that man believes heaven to be in the sky. What else could explain the infinity before me? Surely my words cannot. Such tiny things, Orion, Jupiter, North Star, my sister, my lover, my high school friend. How miniscule, microscopic, these fabrics of infinity are, how infinitely important they are in the grand design.

Like the miniscule quarter-gallon of gas to get me the 130 miles, to a town that may or may not have a gas station open this Christmas morning.

 

            Lost in a climate unfamiliar and desolate, sitting on the hood of my car 130 miles or further from the nearest human heartbeat. Twelve hours of utter solitude behind me, not so much as a passing car, I Gaze up at the stars, and I am complete, whole. I feel the oneness with the world that seems only available in travel brochures. I feel content, an emotion so rare that its beauty is amplified by the fact that you can count on one hand how many times you feel it.

            Lost, alone, in danger, I sit on my hood and smile in contentment? Go ahead, ask- what are the odds? I can’t even venture to guess. After all, I have never been good with probability, anyway. Let alone Heaven.

 

 

Reviews

[Robert Luna]

I loved this. It flowed so great and I love the way it flashed between here and now to the then and maybe. Had a great feel to it and the way it all came together. I love your ability to captured details in such a way that it really draws you into the story itself and feeling as if you are actually there bearing witness to the scene unfold. I always love reading you stories I always feel a deeper connection to you and your words. I feel an emotional connection to the character and there story.


Great Job!!!!!!!

[Doctor JKC]

When I lived in Hollywood (Fla) I used to scour the beaches and bars
to find the wrestler, George "The Animal" Steel to no avail. In Florida
you search for any purpose to be.
I will always back up Mapquest from now on.

it's so cool your nature made something
off it all. I would never trust a person named
Igor. Then my paranoia levels are quite high.

Loved your story,
Dr.Callaghan

[HoWiE]

This was well written, I thought. It flowed nicely and kept the reader hooked. I liked especially the imagery and word play. Nicely resolved too - thanks for posting this, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Cheers! Howie ;-)

[desertraven]

this piece was sent to me by a friend and I could not have been happier to recieve it! I live in the Southeast Valley of Arizona and know the feeling well. 6 years ago, I had moved out here from Louisiana and found, that nothing can compare to the desert at night...it's a whole different feeling, place...universe!
This piece was well written and enjoyable!
Sandra

[Mr. Lopez]

What a grand memory of a feeling I have I personally have experienced many times over . I enjoyed the way you didn't reveal the reason for the trip until well into your story. I have felt vulnerable and safe under the night sky as well. As if we are in heaven on earth. Excellent writing.

[Skwhirrl]

You are wonderful - you know that, right?

[Lucinda Bogart]

I remember the absolute cold bite of the air after dark, even though the day was bathed in 90 degree sunlight. I remember the coyote howls and the dazzle of the stars spread across the darkness of the night sky. It was beautiful there, over 20 years ago....but your words took me right there. I can almost smell the frost in the hills and valleys of Prescott and feel the chill of brushing too close to a cactus in Tucson. The desert was magic....I miss it.

[Celtic Cat]

Wow. This is amazing. I loved every bit of it but have to pull this line down as a favorite:
Panic is for action, contemplation is for the doomed.

[Joseph - Michael]

That was quite a great (yet unusual) feeling on how when there's no need for the sense of the directions, just only the freedom...

So, it's all good here...

[The Viking]

You are truly an amazing writer. You seem to effortlessly be able to captivate the reader into the stories of your characters. You've got mad talent. The technique of telling a past event, a future event, then flashing back to the present is cool. At first you wonder if the character will survive her situation, but the flashes into the future let you know she will. The philosophical quality of this story is deep. There's been many a nights back out west (among of bison, coyote, and deer) when I'd lay on the hood of my car staring into the cosmos and pondering any and all thoughts that eternity would entertain. And it's true that Florida always seems to "grasp you with it's claws and drag you back to it's obligations". I always end up coming back here. I feel an even deeper connection to the story because I lived out west a while ago, then moved to Florida - and spent some time in the Arizona sands. This is a classic and I hope you continue to write more.