Hello Again!
I’m still afraid of the dark.
Minimalism has its advantages—but when it comes to emotion, I’m a maximalist.
On a family road trip growing up, we stopped at Craters of the Moon (now a National Monument) in Idaho.
We walked into a lava tube that had a bend in it. When we were halfway through the tube, at a place where you could not see the entrance or the exit, our guide had us all hold hands and turn off the lights.
It was the most profound darkness I’ve ever experienced. I was too scared to cry, scream, or even whimper. I couldn't see. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.
Moments later, or maybe a lifetime later, we turned our flashlights back on and walked around a bend, and saw the blinding light of the exit.
Take a risk and share a haiku with us in the comments about a maximalist emotional experience. Tell us about the moment you were the happiest, saddest, angriest, or most anxious.
Be the weird you want to see in the world!
Cheers,
Jason
P.S. The six-part letter series on consciousness is coming to an end. You can read letter #5 from
here. I will be sending out letter #6, the final installment tomorrow after my regular daily post.
We were volunteers once at Kartchner Caverns. Turning off the lights was a part of the visitors’ tour. Made me appreciate the bats’ “sonar”!
A cruel, rainy night
death came knocking at her door
clear skies in morning
(I thought about writing clear skies “in mourning” as well but left it as is.)
Thanks for the fun challenges, Jason!