On Darkness and Chains

Five-Minute Read

At dusk, we gather at the trailhead, deep in Kanawha State Forest. We wear headlamps. Carry flashlights and walking sticks. As daylight slips away, our leader calls us together. We count off—14 hikers in all.

“Let’s go!” she finally says.  And we are off, boots crunching on the rocky path.

For a time, there is animated conversation. We introduce ourselves, find commonalities—yes, I have a dog, too, and are you a master naturalist? And isn’t it a great night to be in the woods?

Indeed, it is a perfect night; there is no wind and just enough chill for a jacket. Soon, a certain magic envelopes us. As the sky darkens, our group gets quiet.

With little talk, I am fully present to the crunch of my boots against rocks; the cool air on my face; and the shadowy shapes of tall trees, tangly vines, and delicate, white aster blooms at the trail’s edge. Though I am hoping to hear owls calling, there is only ambient cricket song. Tonight, I find comfort in its softness.

Through breaks in the forest canopy, we see countless twinkling stars. Some of us stop to point our phones toward the sky, to identify the brightest star—Vega—and the early-fall constellations.  

Just ahead, the beam from our leader’s flashlight bobs along, illuminating the full width of the trail. At times, she calls out, “Watch out for the puddle!” and “Be careful of these sticks,” and “Everyone OK?” At one point, she bends to remove a sizable branch that had fallen on the trail.

All too soon we reach a picnic bench, the designated turn-around point.  Here we gather for a moment, sip water, and linger under the stars. The walking has warmed us. Or perhaps it is the gift of being together in the night forest, safe and well. We count off once again and head back to the trailhead. There we share apple cider, fruit, cookies, and more conversation. In those moments, I want nothing more.  

I am reminded that in every aspect of life, when you’re walking in darkness, it means everything to have friends beside you and a capable, trusted leader to light the way.

**

The next morning, I begin untangling a ball of necklace chains that has been sitting in a dish on my dresser for years. The strands are hopelessly entwined, like the roots of a pot-bound plant. I’ve never had the time or the patience to separate them.

But somehow, today, I do. I grab the mass of metal, pour myself a cup of coffee, and sit down at the dining room table.

I turn the chains over in my palm and finger them gently. I count five enmeshed strands.  How can chains become so wrapped up in each other, just sitting in a dish? It’s as if they’ve banded together, in silver solidarity, to grieve my gross neglect.

I gently pull and prod, prod and pull, and in less than an hour, I extract three of them—the smooth, slippery, serpentine ones. Success!

Yet, the last two chains are thin and delicate. They have tiny links. Indeed, on the prettiest one, the links twist and sparkle. Looped onto that chain is a beautiful amethyst pendant I’d forgotten I had. That is the prize, the reason to carry on. I want to wear that pendant.

Yet, an hour ticks by and I still have not separated the last two chains. At one point, I have a cat’s cradle of strands dangling from my fingers, like an upset spider web. The direction is unclear. When it looks like I am getting close, I slip a strand through a loop and make it worse.

Poking at the chains, my mind wanders to other entanglements. How many hours had I spent on the phone, begging my health insurance company to send the paperwork to prove I did not owe $25, which sat unpaid for so long, my provider sent it to a collection agency? How much time had a spent “chatting” online with my internet provider, pleading with them to return my monthly payment to its original amount?  And why did a movie channel suddenly bill me for services I canceled months ago, forcing me to call again for a refund?

In the larger picture, what about the political snares, which have, over decades, kept me writing letters, sending emails, making signs and phone calls, and standing in protest to protect people and the environment against greed and injustice? This, I know, will never end. It’s part of being a member of the human race. I will always follow my moral compass into the tangle.

After close to another hour of prodding and pondering, I’ve nearly freed both chains. They lie facing each other on the table, like silver serpents, with just one knot uniting them.  I use the tip of a pen to loosen the kinked links, clinging to each other like lovers who must part. I make enough room between them to insert the pen tip. I jiggle the links gently, and the knot loosens enough for me to dissolve it. Hurray!!

The prize for my patience is the amethyst pendant, which I’ve since worn several times. If only loosening other knotted situations was as rewarding!