darkness

i went on a field-trip to crystal cave yesterday with 1st and 2nd graders. when the tour guide brought us to the furthest-most point in the cave's depth he turned off all the lights.  not only to give us a sense of what the early explorers felt when exploring the cave over a hundred years ago with nothing but a candle (that could, and would, go out) but also to give us an experience that we rarely have: an experience of total darkness. the kind of darkness that would inhibit you from seeing your hand in front of your face (we tried).

the first time i can remember thinking about darkness was in vermont. i was 17 years old. i was already well-traveled, familiar with all kinds of cities; but the rural, natural world was totally foreign to me. i instantly fell in love with the trees, mountains and waters, but mostly the night's sky.  the way it could fill up with so many stars that glittered, but gave off no light below. i found that darkness, much like the one in the cave, to be awe-inspiring and extremely... comforting.