With my phone in hand and buds in my ears, I step into the early morning darkness and press “play” on my Women Who Worship playlist. I immediately freeze in my tracks, startled by the volume. The last time I listened to something on my phone was during the day, and that same volume was normal. Under the stars and fading moon, it felt assaulting.
I am fascinated by the adjustments our bodies naturally make to changes in our environment. As the light fades, our eyes become a little less able as we shift our reliance to other senses. Our ears perk up as we feel our way through a new set of circumstances. When temperatures rise, our bodies adapt in incredible ways, down to the ratios of water and salt in our blood. At higher altitudes, our bodies use water faster and the amount of oxygen flowing through our blood decreases.
We were created to be in flux, to adjust and readjust as everything around us changes. So much of the work happens behind the scenes, without us needing to press any buttons or expend mental energy. But when we pause in the midst of the contrast of darkness and noise, trace the trickle of a drop of sweat down the path of our face or stop to marvel over our shortness of breath in the mountains, we touch beauty.
Oh, how blessed are our eyes and ears – how they work together, adapt and work separately from each other too! Oh, how blessed – and intricate - is process of adaptation. And, oh, how easy it is to miss it!
When was the last time you went for a walk in the dark? What physical changes did you notice?
I recently went for a walk in the dark after dinner and invited my family to come along, thinking they would say, “no.” Surprisingly, everyone joined me and we had a lovely walk through the neighborhood looking at the stars. I noticed that we spoke in quieter voices and spent most of our time looking up. We walked slower than usual too. When we returned to the house, the lights seemed brighter than when we left.