I was born in New York City, grew up in Los Angeles, and spent my young adult life in the San Francisco Bay area. I loved the bright lights, energy, and sounds of the city. The few times I spent camping in nature were uncomfortable. It seemed too quiet and the darkness made me jittery. But things changed after the kids were raised and out on their own.
City life became increasingly stressful. I felt gridlocked, depressed, and manic. After much thought and driving from our home in the Bay area as far north as Oregon, we decided to settle in the small town of Willits, California. We bought a small house on 22 acres of land. It was a time to disengage from the hustle and bustle of city life and learn to live in the country.
At first everything scared me. I was sure the bugs and bees would drive me crazy and the bears would eat me alive. I had never used a chain saw and the warnings on the generator about possible electrocution terrified me every time I turned it on. I decided I better learn to live in the wild or our experiment with country life would be short-lived.
We had settled into our new home by March, 1992, and as spring approached I decided it would be a good idea to sleep outside and learn to overcome my fears…if I could. There is a small, unfinished, cabin along a windy logging road about 300 yards from the house with a deck out front. I decided I would walk from the house each night and sleep in my sleeping bag on the deck.
Each night at bedtime I would walk along the road through the woods, scared of every rustle of the leaves. I wasn’t sure if it was a bird or a bat flying overhead, but I was sure it was sizing up my neck for a bite. But over a number of weeks and months I became more and more accustomed to the outside. My fears diminished as I began to appreciate my home and its surroundings.
I was astounded to sleep outside, under the stars. In the city with its constant lights, the night sky is always rather dull. But here in the country, the millions of stars shone brilliantly bright. The moon was a wonder as it made its way through the night sky. In my walk from the house to my sleeping deck, I gradually learned to walk in the dark, turning the flashlight off for a few seconds at a time. Eventually I could make the 5 minute walk in complete darkness, even when the moon was obscured by clouds.
I had always loved the dark as a kid. I spent summer nights in southern California playing way past dark with my friends. We loved playing football and painted the ball white so we could see it, even as the dark descended. When we couldn’t see a thing, we played hide and seek. Enjoying the dark again years later, I wondered how I had lost this primal joy of night and had become addicted to the light. I’m reading a wonderful book by Barbara Brown Taylor, Learning to Walk in the Dark, that captures the wonder and beauty of darkness in a world inundated with bright lights.
I also learned to love the silence. I’d never lived in place so quiet. I had a once-in-a-life-time experience, the year after we came. In the time between winter when it would snow occasionally and the spring when we’d hear the sound of bugs and birds, and yes even the bears who I learned to love and understand, the quiet was like nothing I’d ever known. It became a presence, alive with richness, and its own kind of beauty.
One day I was out at the little cabin during the day and I heard a very, very faint sound. I couldn’t identify it and turned by head this way and that, cupping my ears with my hands to get a better listen. It was almost non-existent, but clearly there. It took me five minutes to identify the sound. I finally realized that I was hearing the sound of my eye lashes each time I blinked.
The thought of it being so quiet that the loudest sound you could hear was the sound of eye lashes blinking was a total delight. I felt like I had been given two priceless gifts: the gift of darkness and the gift of quiet. These gifts not only delighted me, but I feel they helped heal me. I wonder how many of the diseases of modern life—depression, stress, high blood pressure, could be made better if we had more darkness and quiet in our lives. What do you think?
Now as we plan our move into town I know I’ll take these gifts with me. They will always live inside my heart and soul and I will seek them out in our new home in town. You can help me remember them if you’ll share your own experiences with darkness and quiet. When have you felt inspired by them or afraid of them? Where do they live in your life today?
I was afraid of the dark for years. I hated to be alone. My husband and I moved to a more rural area and shortly thereafter our relationship came undone. I was sure I would be frightened being alone. I knew I’d be leaving lights on throughout the night. What I experienced was quite the contrary. The quiet became my friend. It allowed me to think deep thoughts and allowed my body to relax. The quiet was so soothing that I began to enjoy time alone. Slowly I began turning off my lights. Though I still leave one small light on at night..I also appreciate the dark for its healing affects.I often don’t turn on lights and just read my kindle by candle light. I like to walk outside at night. Where I live the star display is amazing on a clear night. When I take my dog out in the evening I make a point to breathe in the beauty around me. I am not frightened and thoroughly enjoy the peace.
Kay, Thanks so much for sharing. Sounds like your experiences were similar to mine and you’ve come to enjoy the quiet and darkness of nature.
I grew up in the country, and have always loved being in nature. We had a dairy farm when I was growing up, and it was my job to get the cows every evening. They were pastured about a mile away through the bush. I rode one of our work horses, and the quiet of the horse’s hooves shuffling down the bush trail, and seeing wildlife here and there, always felt wonderful to me.
When we were young our family had no tent, and often my cousin and I would sleep out under the stars. It was wonderful to lay there looking at the sky, and hearing the silence around us.
For years my wife and I alternated our holidays between wilderness canoeing and mountain back packing. It always took a couple of days for us to get into ‘nature mode’, and then we felt relaxed and in tune with our surroundings. We often would see no one for a week or so when we canoed on wilderness lakes in northern Saskatchewan. It felt wonderful.
Noel, Another level at which we are kindred spirits. Glad to share our love of nature and the wild. I didn’t have as much growing up as we’ve had now over the last 25 years living in the beautiful
mountains of Mendocino County.
Have camped every year since I was 10 years, and am 55 now. Spent a number of years canoe/back pack camping on small lakes and islands in a beautiful place called Algonquin Park in Ontario. Never felt so close to peace as I did there, sitting in the darkness by the water. A sky so full of stars, you didn’t need a flashlight. I would say to my companions ” If you cant de-stress here, you cant de-stress anywhere”. Regardless of ones spirituality, I felt closer to heaven than anywhere else. I still camp every summer, and am lucky to have my wife enjoy this time with me. Walks at night by moon light, with only the sounds of nature surrounding us, are still my true moments of peace…….
Alan, Thanks for sharing your experiences. I think most of us have had these experiences, but sometimes forget how important they are in our lives or how necessary they are for our continued health and well-being.
This is a welcome and extremely timely share…thank you Jed.
It would not be outlandish to call this the”Cortisol” generation.
The level, variety and complexity of stressors anyone encounters daily is mind boggling. Visible, invisible, ingested, the variety increases daily.We are literally hard wired and lit up as a prerequisite for survival.
In many ways we are unwittingly part of a 21st century borg,inexorably tied into the collective.
Many it seems are fearful of even risking temporary disconnection, when it is precisely the remedy for the madness we describe as living.
Thanks for reminding us to live in a world where Awe and wonder have significance, where fear is replaced by the enriching embrace of Mother Nature if we let her.
Rico, Interesting comments. I agree that many of the stresses we experience has to do with the monumentally rapid changes going on. In his book, Future Shock, Alvin Toffler, told us that we would be facing a new kind of dis-ease as we ran headlong into the future where the rates of change increased exponentially. We also face the reality that there is a mismatch between the brains we still possess and the environment we evolved to live within.
For instance our brains evolved at a time when fats, sweets, salt, were scare, yet necessary to our survival. We evolved a brain that was on high alter for these rare commodities and guided us to eat as much as we could find. Our brains haven’t changed, but in our present environment fats, sweets, and salt are not rare. Hence, we overeat and get fat.
Likewise, in the past the stresses of dealing with wild animals occurred maybe once a month when we were attacked by a lion. Our bodies and brains release stress chemicals like Cortisol in response to stressors. But instead of a lion coming at us once a month, we have traffic, internet warnings, student loans, children’s demands, economic dislocations, etc. all screaming “emergency.”
Its no wonder we feel overwhelmed. There is a way to stay on top of these changes. That’s what we do here at MenAlive. Teach you to handle the stresses of modern life.
I think that on a number of levels society and our culture teach us to be afraid of dark and silence. Movies and TV make the dark seem dangerous. Not just once, but many times over the course of a year. And sound is used to make things seem more dangerous.
When light and sound are missing it seems unnatural to us now. In our modern world, if they are suddenly missing, something is ‘wrong’. Maybe that is part of what make darkness and silence so threatening.
Cal, Its true that our culture puts a lot of negative energy on dark and quiet and supports efforts to move into the light, become enlightened, and speak out. That’s why we need to honor the dark and quiet.