Reflection

The candle I had lit this night left a translucent reflection on my small, framed copy of Ansel Adam’s famous photograph. It stood upon an iron candle holder I shaped myself to fit the curves of my fingers as I hold it. In gazing upon this photograph it occurred to me that like the trees seemingly reaching up towards this shimmering night sky, the epitome of the vastness, distance and nearness of the universe, it was not unlike my inner exploration during the quiet hours of the night. I have found throughout the years that when I spoke to friends about the depth and clarity of the thoughts I engaged in at night, my friends expressed having similar experiences. For some it is exciting. For others it can be terrifying. For many it is both, and I share that perplexing and complicated mixture of experiences. For in the solitude of night, perhaps what can be considered its greatest gift to humanity, is its ability to lead us to reflect more deeply on our experiences and what they mean to us from the very surface of our initial conception of them, to the very depths of our feelings for them.

But nighttime is also scary. I have often, without always being aware of it, associated it with the brink of madness. I am not entirely sure where that association originally came from. Perhaps from a longtime fear of the unknown, of the nightmares and dreams that I have experienced, or of the fears and anxiety that have kept me awake during those hours. But, perhaps, more so that anything else, I have made this association because I so often envision the experience of approaching the unknown and the risks it seems to entail of losing one’s sense of self and foundation, with that of the deepening of the night.

And hat should not be as frightening as I have made it out to be. Walking into the unknown, like opening up a book that you had no prior concept of except that it spoke to you on that dusty shelf, or meeting a new and intriguing person on the train, or falling into a dream, should be an experience we grasp at with the enthusiasm of a child, but the deeper insights and maturity of an adult. It is in those harrowing leaps that we make against the risks of fear, pain, even disillusionment, that we are given the gift of an opportunity to grow in the most admirable ways. We are certainly strengthened through these leaps and all the benefits and consequences that come with them. But, just as importantly, our eyes are opened to perceive the world with greater depth and, if we choose to see it this way, greater understanding and its benefits: patience to listen, tolerance of differences, and forgiveness.

So for me, this photograph holds a deeper meaning because it represents that leap of faith in myself, in my loved ones, in a greater purpose, and a greater Being, by reaching out into that infinite unknown with little more than a candle before my eyes, lighting my way for just a little section of the wilderness as I take each step, but keeping me blinded from becoming too exposed to the world around me until I am ready to approach it and See it.