The first time I went out on my monthly star watch, I brought my headlamp to help me back to the car. My headlamp makes my dog’s eyes shine like brilliant emeralds when she looks at me during a night’s walk. Alysia, next to me, can’t see it. Only I can see the shine because the headlamp is right there between my eyes. Only those eyes can see the light that is reflected straight back.
At the end of my star watch, I packed up, put on my light, and started back. I kept stumbling on rocks. I got very confused. The trail looked absolutely smooth. There was no rock in sight and yet I kept stumbling. I really focused on the trail. It wasn’t a question of not being able to see; the headlamp did a great job lighting the trail. And yet I kept stumbling. Why couldn’t I see what I was stumbling over? Finally, I saw a thin, dark line that turned out to be the edge of a rock. I started watching for thin dark lines until I realized what was happening.
I was seeing no rocks because I was not seeing any of their shadows. Their shadows streamed directly away from the light, directly away from my eyes. The rocks were blocking their shadows from my view. Everything appeared the same brightness, like the full moon, with no contrast. I took my headlamp off and held it off to my left. Instantly the shadows of every rock appeared, slanting off to the right. I immediately knew the location, shape, and size of every rock ahead of me. From then on, I could stride confidently along the trail.
I share this story because I think it is a powerful metaphor that I haven’t yet figured out how to express in terms of how a different perspective can suddenly reveal a previously invisible world filled with its obstacles and opportunities.
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