There are 200 billion trillion stars in the universe. Let that number sit with you for a moment. More stars than grains of sand on every beach on Earth. And here you are, on a tiny blue planet, orbiting one ordinary star, reading these words.

Does that make you feel insignificant? Or does it make you feel miraculous?

We live in an age where we think we have all the answers. Google can tell us anything in seconds. But when you stand under a truly dark sky and see the Milky Way stretching from horizon to horizon, you remember: We know almost nothing. And that unknowing? It's not frightening. It's liberating.

Stargazing isn't just looking at distant lights. It's time travel. The light from the star Betelgeuse takes 650 years to reach us. When you look at it tonight, you're seeing it as it was during the Renaissance. You're literally looking into the past.

When you look at the night sky, something profound happens in your body. Your pupils dilate. Your breathing deepens. Your heart rate slows. Your stress hormones decrease. This isn't new-age thinking - it's measurable science.

Experiencing awe, that overwhelming feeling when confronted with something vast and incomprehensible, actually changes your brain chemistry. It increases feelings of happiness, gratitude, and altruism. It makes you kinder, more generous, more connected to others.

One study found that stargazing is associated with "peak experiences" - those moments of pure presence that ease stress and create lasting positive changes in mental health. When we feel stressed, our vision literally narrows. But when we look at the dark night sky, our eyes and minds open wide.

The night sky reminds us that we're all looking at the same stars. Every human who has ever lived has looked up at essentially the same night sky. Your ancestors, navigating by these stars. Your descendants, who will still see Polaris pointing north.

You don't need an expensive telescope. You don't need to drive to the wilderness (though if you can, do). You don't need to know the names of constellations. You just need to look up.

The best stargazing happens on cold, clear, moonless nights. But even in a city, even with light pollution, you can see wonders. Jupiter's brightness cutting through urban glow. The Moon's craters visible with simple binoculars. The Orion Nebula, a stellar nursery where stars are being born right now.

This isn't about becoming an amateur astronomer (unless that calls to you). It's about creating a practice of looking up. Of remembering your place in the cosmos. Of trading screens for stars, at least for a few minutes each week.

Start simple. This Sunday evening, after dinner, step outside for just ten minutes. No phone. No agenda. Just you and the night sky. Notice what you notice. Feel what you feel. Let the cosmos work its quiet magic.