On Balance: Part One

It was a good night to see the Perseids. We headed out past the lighthouse and sat on the slope of the old deepwater harbour. The sky separated into clouds and moonlight, like curds and whey in a blue-black cup. Haar rose like an army of mist from the sea. An aeroplane silently burnt along. So many trails of light; we always knew what we were looking for, seldom what we were looking at... Radiant can be a noun, when you speak of meteor showers. The meteors’ apparent point of departure, to earthbound observers like us, is called their ‘radiant’. We spotted sporadics, heading at varying speeds and on different trajectories – that one to Edinburgh, we said; that one to Fife. To the southwest of Scotland’s capital, someone let off almost unnoticeable fireworks, as if without a murmur. Festivals were happening. We looked at the stars and talked about balance.

Perseids have their radiant in the constellation Perseus, named for the ancient Greek hero famous for decapitating the beautiful, paralysing Medusa of the snaky locks. ‘Look nah’, his statues boast on repeat in the civilized world, as he displays her head in one hand, held casually at his side, like a shopping bag; the mirror-like shield in the other hand, winged sandals on his feet. It is a classic moment of fixity; or is it? Do we not imagine her open eyes when they were in process of opening, the focus of her blank glare shifting, the creatures composing her hair lifting to scent the breeze, and her ...