People have a specific lens through which they reminisce upon their life and the road they’ve traveled so far: a silver lining or Ariadne’s thread that weaves together all the varied places they’ve been, or maybe a common theme or affinity that continuously arises throughout. It can be a passion for exotic cuisines, a lust for adrenaline, majestic hikes that inspire, nights spent partying til the break of dawn, etc. While all of these different facets definitely have their place in my memory trove, there’s always some other aspect of my travels that has filled my well the most profoundly. It is these experiences I allude to that have stirred my inner life in ways that can’t be fully captured in words, and upon recall hold the most significance to my retroactive prodding. It is my nighttime walks and meanders through countless darkened landscapes that offer me endless wonder, solitude, and space to open up into what life is.
What began as a sheepish and embarrassed attempt to hide myself from neighbors has transformed into a pillar of my life. At 19 years I had the lower back of a 75 year old man, and for an extended period of time I was only able to walk and do yoga for exercise. And so, humiliated that I wasn’t able to soaringly careen through the streets as I used to, I would strictly walk at night to limit the amount of eyes that would see my self-perceived weakness. However, in time, I began to rely on these walks as devoutly as my morning coffee; my time spent prowling the streets became my muse and therapy, granting me privacy under starlit’s gaze to truly feel into my place in life and what it meant to me to be alive. What began in the humble streets of Doylestown and led me into North Philly through Temple’s campus, my travels around the world are painted by the nights spent walking in quiet contemplation. It are these moments of my travels — and my life at home and as a whole — that strengthen my heart and mind to trust in my soul, and wherever the hell it’s leading me in life.
While walking at night, I feel attuned to a place. I connect to forces of life that sleep and shyly disclose themselves amidst the presence of others. The sun may shine its glorious rays upon a field and cobbled path winding onward, but that is merely one side of it’s nature, and is like appreciating the mountain peak only while gazing up at it in awe. To ascend the mountain and see the vista laid out before you — to really understand a locale and allow your Being to feel what the place has to offer you — you must walk that same path at night, with the moonlit muse your comfort and companion. Only when you’re alone with a land in which you’re dwelling, and can hear each windswept leaf in harmony with the softest footstep fall, only then will a place open itself up to you.
One isn’t to be frightened of what lies beyond the darkened shadow where light fails to reach; the only ghoul waiting there is that which is rooted in your very soul. To be terrified of that image, and yet still face the blackness of night — that is a cause for rejoicing. For day does not offer such sublime opportunities to conquer those fears that sap our inner resources. Only in night may one confront that which unknowingly troubles them so. When darkness settles upon your home and the wind rises in summons, heed that call and follow it to the path that lies at your doorstep. Grant yourself that privilege and privacy to be alone with the land.
My nighttime strolls have wound me all over the world. They’ve taken me through the maze of North Philadelphia’s dread and drowning angst that colored urban living during Covid; through Lake Tahoe and various California campsites, when the 12 adolescents I and my homegirl Ellie were in charge of, finally got to bed and offered me a quiet respite from my days spent as a wilderness trip leader; through the Slovenian Karst slopes, with fabled meadow fields sparsely dotted by solitary willow tree sentinels and rolling forested hills that held promise of secret life and storied lore; through the legendary historic district of Fatih Istanbul, with psychedelically kaleidoscopic mosques lit up in divinely inspired brilliance, and the mesmerizing urban cacophony creating wholly unique full-sensory harmony; through the beaches of Goa India, populated by ecstatic New Age minstrels raving the night away and European retirees languidly lounging in the spoils of their lives’ hard-fought battles; through the other-worldly heights of the Peruvian Andes, serenaded by the dazzling celestial song above and accompanied by the wisest canine sage I’ve ever met, Oxana; through the Hokkaido countryside while a bit buzzed on sake, always venturing away from the town’s lights and climbing up the mountain’s footed slopes, ever towards the embracing darkness and miasmic whirring of the cicadas’ hum to which I flocked; through Nikko National Park and along the single weaving road that wound with the river, in conversation with the shadowy pines until a car’s headlights violently jolted me from the trance of night; through the Nara woodlands as I prepared for my journey home, always punctuated by a freshly rolled cigarette courtesy of a kind old fellow I met in Kyoto.
I view my life’s story through the lens of these walks, each chapter of my life distilled within the emotions I felt in the night. They’re a part of me and are as essential to me back at home as when I’m traveling through mythic lands. They help me integrate the days’ events, and grant me the space to step back from whatever occurred. It’s while roaming the night where I can reconnect to parts of life that are all too easily lost in the deafening dull drum thrum of everyday life.
It seems to me that when our sight is limited at night, we are able to greet a landscape with senses and forces beyond vision. We are capable of feeling a place more. Thus, if you’re living somewhere for a short while or just having a quick getaway, I urge you to go for a nighttime stroll. I can’t promise you’ll enjoy it as much as I do. But perhaps, like Herman Hesse’s beloved Steppenwolf, you’ll learn to prowl the darkened streets with artful reverence, learning to depend upon the quiet and solitude to balance the disarray of life in the day. You will meet new forces at night, ones that are equally right as those in the light. They are benevolent and beautiful and mutually seek your highest good, so why not befriend them? If you learn to seek the sheltering guidance of the stars and night’s piercingly pristine delight, I promise you that your depths will begin to stir.
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