Acquainted with the NightBY ROBERT FROST
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain--and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height, One luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night. In 2012, a strange set of circumstances found me following an internal calling and taking a position at the Downtown Aquarium in Denver, Colorado. It was a solitary job in the evening, which left me alone in a vast $200m mansion, worthy of a Bond villain. I spent hours wandering the exhibits in the dark, the low lights above the waters illuminating my path in an eerie, otherworldly glow. The ominous shapes of sharks would glide over head, a constant reminder of the primality that exists just inches away from us at all times. It could have been peace. But instead, in the darkness, night eventually came, slowly and subtly to my heart. Decisions became more selfish. The walls of my heart grew higher than before. I began to become tougher, more callus. I began to see the darkness in the world, in the hearts of others. I never fell into substance abuse, apart from drinking vast amounts of coffee, but it wasn't far away, if I'm really honest. I continually needed more and more stimulation to stay conscious both metaphorically and literally. My attention span waned painfully until a mere two minute conversation would find my mind drifting off into nothingness. I began to joke that I would occasionally find myself walking through the world with "dead shark eyes", simply executing the patterns of being alive. But it wasn't a joke, it was real. The funny thing is, the world responded positively. Doors fell down in front of me, walls caved in at the first resistance. I couldn't believe it was real, that I was getting away with this sort of life. My seemed to turn off. I suddenly became like the sharks over head. Unconsciously running the program of life. I am purposefully being vague here, but it got dark. In Frost's poem, it's all there. I became 'Acquainted WIth The Night'. It was only when I left and over the next few months began waking up in the darkness and watching the sunrise each day, that the light began to permeate my mind again. It's been a comeback, for sure. I've rediscovered a lot about myself. My mind came back. Now, I spend my time with the sun. As much as possible. I attempt to make life purposeful, loving, and peaceful. The sharks now only swim in my dark dreams, just as the primality still exists, just on the edges. But for now, the wild beasts are far away from me and I am enjoying this season of sun. When the night comes again, I'll do my best to be ready.
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