The Darkness

aww ~ october 23, 2013
"the darkness"

*****

Darkness.
Is a magical place when in the woods, at night, amongst the deer, amongst the night sounds of crickets and tree frogs, the starlight, the moonlight, critter eyes that peer curiously through the woods.

But.
If in the darkness the woods are totally quiet when there are supposed to be crickets and such, the essence is quite unnatural. If I am not diligent, fear can take hold and sleep never comes, ears listen for every little crack and crumble, as I lay alone in my tent. Such surroundings present an eerie ambiance.

Darkness.
Is a tunnel with no light at the end. All I have is perhaps a candle or low flashlight to traverse the elements. The darkest elements are the corners of my psyche, emotional snares that, in the moment, seem impossible to conquer.

"Conquer" is probably not the right word. I don't "conquer" life. I don't really like that word - "conquer." For me "conquer" implies conquest.

I am unable to conquer darkness.

I am able to move through darkness, feeling my way, slowly putting one foot in front of another. The conquest is not over the darkness, but rather, over my perceived inability to move. I must keep moving. It is fine to rest awhile. But I must get up again and move.

I rode my bike today along a mountain trail among the autumn leaves in the Shenandoah. These are old mountains. The hills vibrate with wisdom and gentle slopes, again reminding me that the wilderness is.

I rode, hiking and pushing my bike along some of the rockier parts of the trail, to a huge meadow. There were no humans. Fifteen birds of prey circled the sky nearby. I dismounted and sat in the meadow.

The sky was filled with gray, billowy clouds. The air was chilly; I put on my purple and black gloves. The breeze kissed my cheeks. Like so many times before, I breathed in, tasting home. I felt centered, connected. I was cheating a bit because I was listening to music in my earpiece. Grateful Dead. Then Steely Dan.

I looked around.
I could see no human eyes, though there may have been some in the distance somewhere.
I arose and I danced,
Alone.
In the meadow.
I smiled.
I love the earth.
I love the heavens.
Even though I know both can be unforgiving.

I remounted my bike.
I rode through and out the meadow.
And down the mountain.
I called aloud to the crows.
I called aloud to the woods,
The sky,
The critters that might be peering.

After fifteen minutes I arrived back at the dirt parking area where I had parked my 1999 gray Ford Explorer. When I had left the parking area earlier to embark my ride, there was only one other truck. Now there were six.

A lone man was standing by his army green pick-up truck to hide himself from the road on the other side as he pulled up his pants to get ready and warm for his ride. He didn't hear or see me approaching from the mountain trail. I saw his fleshy buttocks. I shouted, "I see that!" And I laughed. At first he was embarrassed, but then he laughed too.

His name was Billy. He too is a hiker and backpacker along the Appalachian Trail. We chatted a bit.

Yes, home.

I love the woods, even in their darkness, and especially in my own.