Turn On Your Brights

The Light Between the Trees / 2022 / Photo by RCS

I turned on my brights as I entered the tunnel carved through the mountain. How was this shadowy passageway made – by buckets of sweat and sheer audacity? The sides of the tunnel revealed damp rocky ledges where plants had somehow found enough light and nutrients to push upwards, greenly growing in the darkness. I’d read about recently discovered 24,000-year-old prehistoric cave paintings in Spain, kept perfectly intact by dampness soaked into the clay. An art-cave miracle, across time and space. Guess I’ve always been drawn to the miraculously unexpected. Emerging from the tunnel, the wide-angle view was of low-clouds, half-covering misty mountains. Next to the highway – was the close-up version – a jutting cliffside in the style of an ancient Chinese landscape scroll, come to life. It was as if Nature herself decided to turn on her brights. Past the peak, winding my way downhill towards the ferry. Where I’d make the first night crossing of the day. Nocturnal sailings have always felt like a page from a dream, serendipitously presented to me by an invisible hand. Rolling off the boat, I put my brights on, and dark hills rose to meet my sightline. The two-lane road took me up island, and I made the turn onto a dirt road. Which became a narrowing path, seen through thin tree branches whooshing against windshield. Bumping through dense woods on a bumpy, half-there pathway. I drove into mystery, renewal, release. Rounding the last bend, I spotted the hidden away cabin, fitting the description I’d written down. Pulling into the gravel driveway, I cut the engine. In the near distance, I saw a deer. Her glowing eyes warily watched my headlights. A moment later, her primal instincts kicked in. She sprang away into the woods. I breathed in the silence, or was it breathing me? The nighttime circled around me, sending brightness my way. A sense of calmness filled me. It entered me while I sat in the car, viewing the dashboard’s circular lit-up numbers and symbols. Silently listening to the rhythm of the engine ticking. I closed my eyes and an owl asked me who I was, swiveling it’s head, high up in a nearby treetop.