The night I fell in love with the outdoors

I remember one night while camping in the Colorado mountains. It was a calm starry night, with a cool mountain air settling all around. I did not want to sleep in a tent that night.  I had conjured up images of cowboys gathered around a prairie campfire, settling down after a long day on a dusty trail, rucksacks tugged underneath their heads, and sleeping under the stars. I wanted to sleep under the stars. I wanted to commune with the great outdoors' night, and all that it promised in my boyish imagination.

I grabbed my sleeping bag from the tent, and found myself a spot of smooth earth next to the campfire. I laid out my bed for the night, snuggled into its warmth and comfort, and gazed in wonder at the spectacular stars that filled the night sky. Darkness settled in ever so subtle, and camp noise and chatter fell by the wayside. My senses tuned into every crackle of the fire, each shuffling of the leaves, the twinkle of all the stars, and the smell of pine trees standing bold and true. My eyes adapted to the night, but just as they did, my eyelids slowly closed with a hush, and I fell into a deep sleep...

How much time had passed? Had I been asleep for a minute, an hour, several hours? My eyelids slowly raised. I was awake. Everything had changed, but somehow it felt like home. I didn't know what time it was. I could only assume that I was the only one around not sleeping. I sensed that I had drifted into a sacred place that was always in existence, but just beneath my awareness. I felt perfect.

I gazed back up towards the night sky, and I was enchanted by a barrage of falling stars. It was amazing. It was awesome. I was in love...