Night Walk

Andres directed his flashlight into the belly of a large-leafed tropical plant.  The leaves splayed out like a fountain, protecting a doll-sized cup at the base.  He invited each of us to come have a look. In that little cup was one drop of water; sitting by it, a white frog not much bigger than a comma.

We were on a guided night walk in a Costa Rican jungle.   All in our group had a flashlight in order not to trip on the roots and uneven path, while Andres, our guide, used his high-beam torch to show us wonders that we would otherwise have never known were all around us.  There was a finger-sized scorpion on a tree trunk but I could see only bark, until he used ultra-violet light that made it pop out.  We passed plants with bright green leaves, except, with Andres’ light, one turned out to be a rhinoceros katydid. An army of ants flowed like a river across the path, each toting a minute leaf cutting.  Only with the flashlight and Andres’ keen eyes, did we avoid stepping on them.  Birds slept on branches, their heads tucked under their wings. A scrabbling in the bush revealed an armadillo. With Andres as guide, I saw and heard so much more than if I had I been alone. Without the bright light, not only would I stumble and fall, but also miss amazing sights that were hiding in the dark.

Reflecting on the walk produced two not very profound but nonetheless important thoughts: first, that often I walk through my own dark places alone, certain I can find my way.  Yet, if I share my struggles with others, they can often guide me on the path; second; that I can go along, oblivious to all but my own thoughts and miss a lot along the way. Often, the strong light of focus and awareness will reveal hidden surprises if I stop and take the time to look.  Going down the same old path, trying to track down a solution to whatever is bothering me, I find that sharing my thoughts, be it with a friend, a wise counselor, in prayer or by spending time in silence can lead towards an insight that I might never have come to on my own.  If I move through my day with a certain goal in mind, it is as if my gaze is towards a light on the distant horizon instead of beaming in on the present moment.  Why don’t I stop and notice the place where I am, even if it’s only to be aware of the way sunlight touches a tree root, or the feel of my own breath?

Wisdom from my tradition speaks to these thoughts.  In the words of an old hymn: “We should never be discouraged, take it to the Lord in prayer.”  Our wrestling with questions and concerns in prayer witnesses to the belief that we are not alone; that there is one who is wise and loving, who will listen and, if we are attentive enough, guide us. To put our trust in one whose light shines into places we cannot see is also to hope someday we may see like that as well; that we follow a guide whose light was so bright that it shone into the deepest recesses of the human heart.

Now is the season of Lent, a time set aside to learn from Jesus’ forty days alone in the wilderness. The gospel says that during that time, he was among wild beasts and also angels.  I can only imagine the depth of his fear among the beasts or the agony of his loneliness during his search to discern his way forward. Yet somehow he experienced angels that helped him through.  Who were these angels?  Who are they for you?  Are they friends, family members? Perhaps an angel is a cherished poem or a birdsong, a voice or a touch, a prayer?  Something or someone that will hold the light for awhile and shine it for you.

Andres found all the hidden creatures in the jungle for us because he takes this walk almost every night.  He knows the path, he knows all the hiding places, he senses a whisper of wind or a faint rustle in a tree and can find its source immediately. He’s been doing it for a long time. I imagine that he didn’t have much luck the first week or the first month when he started. It took practice, going back to the same places many times until he felt the confidence to lead others along the path. Just so, walking a new path; whether in prayer, in community, or trying to be more observant in our own backyard takes time and practice. At first, it may see like nothing at all has changed; a few hints, a random thought, a scrap of a dream.  But, in time, all of these together can add up to a new way of looking at things, just as a teardrop-sized frog and the murmur of a hidden brook became a miraculous journey in the night.