What to look for: • The Moon and Saturn will be easy to spot with the naked eye
My Reflection: When the Sky Smiled Back at Us
Tonight, January 23, 2026, the night sky offers something rare and quietly profound: a slender crescent Moon rising beneath Saturn and Neptune, forming what many have already dubbed a celestial smiley face. Astronomers call it a triple conjunction. Most of us, instinctively, call it something else entirely, a moment.
At my age, I’ve learned that moments matter more than milestones.
From a strictly scientific standpoint, there is nothing mystical here. The Moon, Saturn, and Neptune are not truly close; they only appear aligned from our earthly vantage point. Saturn shines brightly enough to catch the naked eye, while Neptune, distant and faint, requires binoculars or a telescope. This alignment is geometry, gravity, and orbital mechanics doing what they have always done.
And yet. There is something deeply human about looking up and seeing a smile written across the heavens.
I have spent much of my life around institutions, government agencies, regulatory frameworks, systems designed to impose order on chaos. Science itself is one of those great institutions, built on rigor, evidence, and repeatability. I respect that deeply. But even the most disciplined scientific mind eventually encounters something it cannot fully quantify: awe.
This event does not change the course of history. It will not alter markets, elections, or wars. It will not trend for long. Tomorrow, the Moon will move on, the smile will fade, and the sky will return to its usual indifference.
But tonight, or that early morning hour when the world is quiet, it offers us a pause.
For older readers especially, the sky has a way of collapsing time. I remember looking up as a child, long before LED lights and twenty-four-hour news cycles, when the stars felt closer and the universe felt slower. Back then, we didn’t need an apps to tell us what we were seeing. We just stood there, necks craned, sharing silence.
This “smiley face” in the sky feels like a gentle echo of that era, a reminder that the universe does not rush, does not shout, and does not demand. It simply is.
In a world that feels increasingly brittle, divided, and anxious, I find comfort in the predictability of celestial mechanics. Planets keep their appointments. The Moon keeps its phases. Long after our arguments fade, Saturn will still be tracing its patient path around the Sun.
Perhaps that is the quiet lesson here. Not everything meaningful has to be loud. Not everything rare has to be disruptive. Sometimes wonder arrives softly, curved like a smile, asking nothing more of us than to look up.
And maybe, just maybe the universe is reminding us that even in dark times, it still knows how to smile.
A Benediction Beneath the Stars
May this small alignment in the vastness of space remind us to slow our steps and soften our hearts.
May the patience of the planets teach us endurance, and the quiet glow of the Moon grant us peace.
May those of us who have lived long enough to see the world change again and again find comfort in what endures.
And may we, when we look up into the night sky, remember that wonder is still available to us, freely given, asking only that we notice.
Good night My Dear Readers, and may the heavens smile upon you, always and forever.
My Reels of the Day: Light Scape at Brooklyn Botanic Garden
https://www.facebook.com/reel/717812738063579
The Aurora Borealis in Hawaii.
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