top of page
  • Writer's picturenomtondo

Stepping Out

Updated: May 5, 2020

It felt too bright. That could have been it. It was too bright. The string of lights hanging over my left window dangled in yellow brightness, a focused kind of brightness. I felt seen and I didn’t like it.

I still take my showers in darkness. Background music soaring to guide me in complete darkness as I remove the last twenty-four hours from my skin, down into another darkness I never want to see.

A part of me does it to remain humble of what my past lives around the now depleting, but whimsical world have seen.

You know, your eyes do adjust to the darkness after a short while. Maybe that is another reason why I still do it. Maybe I want to feel something that already grew old, again. Sometimes not forgetting the past is the best antidote for the future.

I remember the moon from one of my long travels. It elucidated the night’s beauty when I took my bucket baths under open skies. The moon was a milky matte colour as it shone on everything my eyes touched. It was striking. It was sedative. Imagine a soft glistening light from near far, a crescent touch on the object you think you recognize in the dark; only this time it is more beautiful and calls for a protector - a feeling you inherit when you see the moon hit it that way and exude like so. All you want to do is protect it forever. This is one memory of my past life. And like an unborn child, I slumbered under and in it every evening.

I always wished the morning never came but like clockwork the pigs woke me up at 5am as they rushed to the feeding area. Anger was not what I awoke to but despair – which was a bit odd, but that truth cannot be discounted. We, my now new family and I, woke up together. We parted ways during the day and reconnect at the evening bowl where every hand – washed, semi washed and don’t ask if they were washed graced the large bowl of food. We ate, laughed, conversed, sang and danced under the moon’s light: however bright it was that day. This is one memory of my past life. That was our routine and I want that back.

The other part of me turns off the light to avoid being seen. A reflection off myself that holds true to my story – the very one I ran from. I know why I ran. I don’t need to pay someone to tell me why. I know and they know. We all know but we won’t talk about it. Best not to talk about it. Don’t ask me why. I don’t think I fully know why.

I looked back at the string of lights from the corner of my eye, upset at how bright it was and how seen I felt. The darkness has been so comforting and true. I never had to question it much because I saw nothing new. In the dark it’s same to same, a phrase I often heard

others say in my travels abroad. Everything was the same and I did not have to be curious or afraid. We know each other and introductions or small talk are not needed. We just get to it, unbothered by the other. Peace. A kind of peace. Don’t be afraid of such peace.

Light does not mean hope, nor does it bring answers by revelation. Sometimes the darkness brings them, you just have to let your eyes adjust!

As I unknotted my thoughts, the sound of my aching ear brought me out of the trance. The idea of another kind of life in the seen world returned. Let’s give it a try, the light is not so bad. Like in the dark, my eyes will adjust.

Lights On!




Recent Posts

See All
bottom of page