Lehman Caves, Great Basin National Park, NV. Photo credit Suite101.com

What a great day yesterday turned out to be. We started it by scoping out the heavens and ended up in the bowels of the Earth. In the process I found out how the heart lights the dark.

Tuesday afternoon, Rufus and I headed north for our overnight star-watching party. We pitched a tent in Nevada's Cathedral Gorge State Park, which is a very remote spot. Its most notable feature is a maze of mud hoodoos that could lure any old sourpuss into a childlike game of hide and seek. Then when the sun hides in some other part of the world for the night, the other great thing about this place is revealed: Near-complete darkness. It's stunning. From directly overhead down to the horizon line in every direction, the only things visible are bright, twinkling stars.

Some smart astronomer deserves a thank you note, because just after midnight on April 22 as predicted, those things started blazing trails across the sky. What a show! I could try to count the number I saw by how many people I got to make wishes for...

Two for me. One for you.
Two for me. One each for a bunch of you.
Two for me. Three for Obama. Four for Geitner. Five for humanity.
Two for me. None for reality TV contestants. Sorry, Susan Boyle.

OK, let's see...

Carry the one, multiply sum of list by two times through, subtract the one that was probably just a satellite, and add two bonus points for suggesting that spot ...

Yes, the sum total of shooting stars I saw in a two hour stretch = more than People magazine covers in a week. But that's just an estimate. At some point I stopped analyzing and listened to some advice my Mother always gives me: Get out of your head and into your heart. I turned off my thinker, and just let the stars fall over me.

Of course eventually the hiding sun heard "olly olly oxen free" and stuck its head in our tent. That kind of early start made what to do next an easy decision. We were already half way to Great Basin National Park. Half way to figuring out why it would be worth the trip from any starting point.

The park's highlight is the Lehman Caves, and we'd arrived just in time for a ranger led tour. Jenny, our guide, told us some background and tried to describe what it was like for the first people known to explore it in the mid 1800s. We entered through a man-made tunnel, and came to a dimly lit chamber. One beam of sunlight came through a hole in the ceiling — the original passageway, and the only source of natural light in the underground treasure that winds and twists under the Earth for more than two miles.

The park service has wired and lit it to show off this geologic marvel. But Jenny killed the switch and led us to the next "room" by candlelight so we could see it as the originals did. Light flickered off weird shapes on the walls, but you couldn't see much more than that. Then she blew out the candle to show us what the complete absence of light looks like. I thought I knew what darkness was. I did not.

"OK, raise your hand if you want me to turn on the lights," came Jenny's voice through the colorless air. The few others on this strange journey laughed nervously, but who knows what looks of terror or peace were on their faces. I'm actually surprised my heart rate remained steady — I raised my hand simply because I love a good private joke.

She didn't have to say "ta-da," when she turned on the juice. The crowd reaction implied it. What a world we'd found ourselves in! Jenny led us from chamber to chamber through a quarter mile of the cave, pointing out important features and teaching the science of them along the way. It was as if we were inside of a living organism — it had chambers and things that looked like valves and pulleys. Each one of those miraculous little phenomena started with a crack and calcified over time from a constant drip. It was not unlike the human heart.

We made it to the man-made exit tunnel, and Jenny wanted to show us one last thing. She kicked against the steel door sending a booming sound wave through the cave. It reverberated through all the chambers and then bounced back toward us, echoing through its own wake. The result made us gasp and shiver then laugh with absolute delight. The sound effect was unmistakeable.  The cave had a heart beat.

A heart beat! That's the sound of hope and health — strength and survival. Just what I'd asked for from those stars a few hours before. I started the day looking outside of myself for guidance and ended up finding what I needed in my own heart. The most important of my wishes came true. I hope the same for you.

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