Tonight is the culmination of the annual Perseids meteor shower. It’s a moment when the earth slides through the path left by a comet that is also orbiting the same sun as we do, but only once every 160 years or so. Whether you take the time to see it or not, it will be happening right over your head. For those who do find a good place to look up, it will be quite a show. If you believe in making wishes on shooting stars, you can get quite a list ready.The meteor shower had me thinking this morning about other kinds of intersections. There are people in my life—some truly wonderful people—whose orbits intersect my own somewhat regularly but perhaps less frequently than I’d like. You know the kind of relationship I’m talking about. The kind that after spending some precious, maybe even unexpected time together, you find yourself sighing, “I wish I saw them more often.”It’s a comfort to know they’re out there, like bright stars in your sky. You know for certain that your life would be darker and so much less interesting if they weren’t there. You can’t always quantify exactly how the gravity of their orbit effects and alters your own, but you know it does. You can feel it when they’re near and you know that you are better for it. But, practically speaking, the geometry and trajectory of your lives put certain limits on the frequency of those intersections. And there’s nothing really to be done about it. These are not orbits that you can force into your own. It’s always a little sad, but it’s no one’s fault. Sometimes it’s physical distance. Sometimes it’s schedules. Sometimes it’s phase of life. Sometimes it’s just … who knows?But what you know for certain is these are very special people—bright stars—and when the opportunity does come for their light to shoot across your sky you want to make sure to pause, look up, reach out, and enjoy the moment.For whatever reason some of these special intersecting orbits have been kind of clumped together for us in the last week or so. Or maybe it’s just me thinking about the meteor shower and taking better stock of just how many bright lights are in my sky. Either way, to John and Val, Darcy, Evie, Sarah, Emily and Eric, Vicky, Carlos, Amy and Ben, Dave and Cat, I just wanted to say, “I see you, and I’m so very grateful every time your bright light streaks across my sky.”I suspect, like me, you have stars that from time to time shoot across your sky too. And like me, you wish it would happen more often. All I can suggest is this … when it does happen, look up from your own busy orbit and take notice. Look up, press pause, reach out, be present, and embrace the moment. You can’t afford to take for granted that those moments will always return. And you shouldn’t let the time that passes in between those moments convince you that those intersections are inconsequential to your own journey. Each of those stars has a specific gravity—however subtle its tug might be—that alters your orbit for the better. And even though they may be too far away to reach on most nights, they’re still up. When next they appear in your sky, take notice. They are like constellations whose light you can use to navigate by as you build yourself a beautiful life.