Thursday, March 15, 2012

A Blink Man In the Dark :)

Jeremy Allman

Mrs. Robinson

Honors English III

A Blind Man in the Dark

It’s not that I’m watching to see something happen, I just like to look. Stars never really change while I watch them like other things do. People watch clouds to see the faces change, and they watch clocks to see time change, but a stargazer doesn’t watch for change. And even though stars aren’t in constant shift like clouds or time, these is always a certain freshness to looking at the night sky. You may think that you know what the nocturnal sky looks sky looks like, but every time you really looked you are amazed and overwhelmed by the beauty and abundance of stars. No matter how often you do it, it never gets old. The amazement never dwindles.

On this particular night, I was on the beach. I don’t remember why I went, but it was the sky that compelled me to stay. I caught a glimpse of the cosmological beauty and I couldn’t walk away. That is when I realized that the best place to witness phenomenon of the night. There are usually no lights on the beach to brighten up the atmosphere, so the exquisite luster of these heavenly bodies illuminates the sky. And at the beach, on a very clear night, you can look straight across the ocean and see stars. They go all the way to the dark horizon. You can also see the moon’s bright shadow shimmering on the rolling water. Every now and then, you will see a shooting star. It will appear in the corner of your eye, a beautiful streaming tail of light. No matter how bright it actually is, it will seem to illuminate the entire sky. This is a true magnificence, something that will in your heart for the rest of the night. Shooting stars also have the astonishing ability to make you a child again. No matter how silly it may seem, you will make a wish on this magically divine bullet. So I sat there on the beach running my fingers through the cool, gritty sand, listening to the supple roar of the ocean, and I felt myself being enveloped with the chilly, moist ocean breeze. The beach is fun during the day, a place for recreation. You can swim, surf, fish and tan. But the beach isn’t very interesting as it sits under the sun. It is much more beautiful and peaceful at night, and a good place to just sit and think. This night, while I sat on the beach thinking, I felt like I was lying on my bed trying to fall asleep. I was in my dark room under my cool sheets. The waves were notes of soft music. The breeze was the soft wind of the air vent. And there were the stars. They were all the tiny lights you see at night: the little green dot on the computer monitor, the glow of the alarm, the blinking midnight clock on the stereo that you never bother to set.

Sometimes, when your in the perfectly right mood, a dark room can show you the most, just like you can see the most on the beach at night. When you are in a room with light you tend to look at the things touched by that light: the walls, the television, the ever-spinning fan. Much like how I look at the stars when I’m on the beach. But if you sit in the same room in the absolute dark, you start to see all the important things. I personally believe that the best way to see yourself is not through a mirror, but in the dark. Only there are all distractions gone. You are forced to look at things you otherwise couldn’t see, the deep-inside-but-just-under-the-surface things: your loves, your memories, your desires; especially your desires. Whenever I’m in a dark room, I really start to think about the things I want, whether it be something important, or that I just want the light back.

For some reason, we tend to think that we need light, that we can’t live without it. Well, I have yet to meet a night that I couldn’t survive. The dark does make it harder to see with our eyes, but what are eyes? They show us nothing, just the blatantly obvious things that all eyes can see. Can a blind man not see?Could Ray Charles not see his piano keys? Could Homer, the great storyteller, not see the things he spoke of. On the contrary, I believe that he has the best view of all. He is always in that dark room. And while he might occasionally miss out on some small things, he rarely ever misses the big picture. Anything that your eyes show you, your hands can show you, or your nose, or your tongue. But only when you go into that dark room and stop looking with you eyes can you see most things. You can’t see feelings with your eyes; not love, not hate, not happiness or gloom, not hope and faith. But aren’t these the most important things, our most cherished possessions? These feelings, these emotions, are our souls, the very fibers of our beings. Anything you lay your eyes on can be taken away just as fast as it came. But the things you can’t see have always been a part of you and always will.

So that night, sitting in the sand, I gained a whole new perspective on myself. This short trip to the beach showed me how much I appreciated the simple beauty of nature. It showed me that light isn’t always the means of sight; but most of all, it showed me a way to look at myself and find out who I am. It feels like the stars have shown me more about myself than they showed Galileo about the universe, or that they showed Christopher Columbus about navigation. And even if stars are not your crystal ball, they are always a true splendor. They have a way of making you forget about your grievances and truly appreciate the natural beauty.

So tonight, play that blind man. Sit under a night sky or lie in a dark room and start looking around. You will most likely find something magnificent. And if you are luck, you’ll eventually find yourself, and then you can truly appreciate all of those things that you are made of.