Twilight

“The summer night is like a perfection of thought.”

Wallace Stevens (1879 - 1955)

Life is returning to the world after spending the afternoon hiding from the searing summer sun which is retreating over the horizon in triumph. The baked earth is striped with long thin shadows that stretch like ribbons revealing the rich texture of the ground. The afternoon has punished any movement with the only sounds in the scorched grass are the screams of crickets enduring the sweltering temperatures which effortlessly drift past the century mark. So brutal is the relentless assault of the summer heat that every cloud is consumed leaving a featureless pale blue sky void of white. The colors of the sky are rapidly changing as the ebbing light washes the top limbs of a majestic oak tree that is sheltering me with its shade. Laying close to the ground the view is blurred by heat waves dancing with seductive pirouettes on the submissive dry withered plain.

Squirrels in a slow deliberate lumber, limb down a tree trunk to the ground in a cautious retreat from the heat. They immediately prostrate themselves flat on the ground with their small limbs extended to the four cardinal points of the compass as if they were skydiving. The afternoon temperature has risen to a point where the squirrels can no longer keep cool and they lay in contact with the ground in the shade of the oak trees to dissipate body heat.

A nose emerges from the cool water as I rise to breathe the sultry air. The water embraces me as my body floats effortlessly allowing my thoughts to escape the confines of the subconscious radiating into the silence of the moment. Ever since I can remember I’ve been connected and drawn to water. Water restores tranquility and makes me whole. Water nurtures and quenches my soul as I seek solace between heartbeats. I find myself seeking water at twilight when the day disappears into night. Tao teaching believes that there is a lake of eternity within each of us and if we are still and pure without thought we can travel to a place within ourselves. When inner thoughts are calmed the ripples on the surface of the lake begin to clear and disappear revealing a reflection. When we have mastered silence we can peer into this reflection of ourselves and discover the essence of our soul. In the silence of the water we become whole and connected with all things living. It is only in this connected state of silence do we really begin to understand the complexity and interdependency of life on earth. As a society we have lost this connection with the world and it is our greatest failure.

Songbirds are the first to arise from hiding as a hint of coolness returns to the shadows, emerging from the deep recesses of the trees to trumpet the retreat of the sun darting across the sky in celebration. Music fills the air as dozens of voices are heard signaling a final opportunity to seek nourishment before darkness. Light is painting soft warm stokes against the ground with each moment as the sky regains its crystal blue hue. Dappled sunlight jumps across leaves briefly showcasing the margins as if they have been embroidered with golden thread.

In a sweeping motion my arms extend down into the cool depths pulling me deep below the surface as my back arches gently guiding me to the bottom. Weightless I drift allowing my limbs to trail behind me like the tail on a kite. Water caresses my face washing away sadness and toil, washing away disappointment and loss, washing away loneliness and longing, leaving a tranquil contentment that fills my torso then soothes my mind. Resisting the urge to stay submerged a forehead delicately breaks the surface, extending my hands I face the sky with my eyes closed to inhale the fragrant smell air once again.

During the heat of the day the mighty oak trees have yielded thousands of gallons of water to the dry air traveling through hundreds of feet of roots and limbs. Water that resides deep in soil and limestone fissures was deposited by the cool spring rains months earlier. Resisting the loss of this life force, the oak tree has fought the day with stomata clenched tightly conserving every drop of precious sustenance. Every tree celebrates the retreat of the sun with a deep exalted sigh as the stomata open expelling a rich perfume of oxygen which silently drifts to the ground bathing the air in a delightful organic breathe. You can almost hear the trees breathe as subtle trace of humidity returns the scent of nature to the air.

The sun is long gone but the sky maintains a slight orange glow of a hot iron removed from a smoldering fire. A single green flicker of light briefly illuminates the air as the first firefly awakes. Slowly the sky comes alive with fleeting spots of twinkling green light as more and more fireflies take to flight. The North Star appears low in the horizon as if a single firefly was frozen in time. Slowly each firefly is transformed into a star as the heavens paint the blue stillness. The last of the birds in flight are now featureless silhouettes against an open sky as they race back to the nest for the evening, as new series of silhouettes dart from between the trees with a frantic erratic spinning movement. In zigzag bursts they head toward the water appearing to dive into its depth at greater speed, but at the surface turn and retreat to the stars leaving a single ripple radiating from the water. Few people take the time at twilight to stare at the sky in complete stillness in order to see the local bats as drink water preparing for the long night of flight. Remaining motionless in the water facing the sky the bats touches the surface so close that I almost hear their inaudible voice. These silhouettes are typically the last living objects discernable in the evening sky as the crickets begin to sing the summer chorus.

Twilight is a brief moment of grace that holds spiritual wonder with the power to restore the soul. It’s a bridge to a place of mysticism and enlightenment where humans can begin to understand the beauty of delicate balance of life. Twilight mourns the death of the day and celebrates the birth of the mysteries of the night. It’s a time of solicitude and reverence that has marked the passing of millions of days but each time it’s an original masterpiece in motion.

"O Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth
To dim enchantments; melting heaven with earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and running streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams."

Caroline Norton (1808–1877)