When I was about 19 years old, I saw a jellyfish exhibit at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Iridescent and glow-in-the-dark blobs, such grace lighting up the deep black sea. In the sea's deepest parts, scientists still hadn't figured out the function of these jellyfish. According to the exhibit, they didn't really serve any purpose, just inched about in the deep illuminating it from time to time. I decided that maybe that's where we go when we die. All our dead loves ballooning and lighting up the complete dark of the sea, for no reason at all.
The second night of camping on the Choro Inca Trail, reached the subtropical forest and it was all fireflies. The weather was pretty much like a humid like midwestern dusk -- the times I can recount seeing fireflies. Aside from the fireflies the campsite had mini firepits in the shape of a tiny two-burner stove, perfect to boil water for mate and a spicy concoction of mashed potatoes.
Anwyay, if you're like me and every little light makes you think of love, these bichos could be tiny miracles. Our dead loves as fireflies? The only thing is I don't think you have to be dead anymore to offer light. It's obvious, sure, but the longing of light from where you allegedly can't get it, can be so too strong. We all need that little light from time to time, and perhaps it's just a bit easier to look for it beyond the grave; they won't hurt you anymore than they already have for leaving.
So it was a beautiful night with a double flame. And even though everytime I touched the fire it went out, there was plenty of light and fire to go around. The food tasted delicious, especially eaten by candlelight -- which I safely lit.
The second night of camping on the Choro Inca Trail, reached the subtropical forest and it was all fireflies. The weather was pretty much like a humid like midwestern dusk -- the times I can recount seeing fireflies. Aside from the fireflies the campsite had mini firepits in the shape of a tiny two-burner stove, perfect to boil water for mate and a spicy concoction of mashed potatoes.
Anwyay, if you're like me and every little light makes you think of love, these bichos could be tiny miracles. Our dead loves as fireflies? The only thing is I don't think you have to be dead anymore to offer light. It's obvious, sure, but the longing of light from where you allegedly can't get it, can be so too strong. We all need that little light from time to time, and perhaps it's just a bit easier to look for it beyond the grave; they won't hurt you anymore than they already have for leaving.
So it was a beautiful night with a double flame. And even though everytime I touched the fire it went out, there was plenty of light and fire to go around. The food tasted delicious, especially eaten by candlelight -- which I safely lit.
3 comments:
Funny, Just today Annie told me about her favorite Nickelback song (yes, Nickelback... I said it) that was on the radio, in which the verse sings:
"And in the air the fireflies
Our only light in paradise"
CRAZY, huh?!.... you blog about fireflies... and here I was... listening to Nickelback sing about it...
Having spent many years swimming in the Jellyfish-infested Black Sea, I have often wondered about their purpose.. And while lighting up some deep and dark part of the underworld may be their romantic side, Stinging the crap our of me on many occasions is their realistic side.
But sometimes they just pretty damn amazing, and I almost forgive their bad habits.
This is so beautiful and I miss you so much.
Post a Comment