What can you feel, when you can not see, hear or touch?
How do you describe what rests in shadow, bathed in the unknown?
When you step across an unlit room, do you close your eyes and trust to your senses, and memory?
Or do you stick out your hands before you just in case?
Have you ever stood in the woods, surrounded by darkness, and heard the howl of a bobcat? Cry of a wolf?
Felt the hair at the nape of your neck seem to twitch?
Have you ever felt a skunk run across your toes, chased by your dogs without being sprayed? Yet it was too dark to see exactly what was going on?
Have you ever lost the ability to hear, only to rely on your eyes to read lips?
Each sense enriches life, contributing to the fullness, the panorama and the completeness of it all.
When one is dimmed others step up to try to fill the void of whatever sense is being hampered or deprived.
As you walk across the darkness, alone, you are focused on one task, one thought, a singular goal.
Everything else is ignored as you must concentrate if you hope to traverse the space without injury.
This is amplified when you are outside the house.
When in the bush, no one knowing where I was or what I was doing, I encountered an unexpected and uncovered well.
The closeness I came to falling in shook my confidence in my knowledge of this oft traveled wood.
As I looked down into it I pondered, how fortunate I was, and how I was use to being isolated and alone so much the thought of something happening to me and no one knowing was not foreign.
On my far more attentive walk back to the farmyard, I hoped my life would not always be thus.
Then I thought how selfish that was of me.
Others have had it much worse.
All the things I can do, see, hear and feel…someone else can not…and they are alone just as I am.