Plato’sCave|IanHill
Thesearethewordswedimlyhear: You,sentoutbeyondyourrecall, gotothelimitsofyourlonging. Embodyme.
Flareuplikeaflame andmakebigshadowsIcanmovein. Leteverythinghappentoyou:beautyandterror. Justkeepgoing.Nofeelingisfinal.
RainerMariaRilke,Tr.JoannaMacy
Lateafternoon,acoldwindfromthelake.The watersteelyinwinterlight,gatheringdarknessfrom agraphiteskysketchedwiththedarkshapesof birds.Deadbrackenstrungwithwoolcatchesthe breeze;itssmellofwetmossandnew-mownhay.
Flickeringbetweenthegorsebushesabovethe sheepfold,alonefoxweavesfromview,barely shakingthescrub.Lighttouchesthepaletipofits tail,thegrizzledfuralongitshaunches.Iaman interloperinitsspace;Ismelloftheotherworld,the oneIhaveleftbrieflybehind.Itscarelessgaitislike abenediction.
Animalsappearinourliveslikeunfamiliarspirits, revenantsfromaworldinwhichweneverlearned howtolive,untetheredfromtherhythmsand patternstowhichwearecaptive.
Theyaretheflickeringsattheedgesofourvision; thesnipebillingupfromdampsedge;thegrouse skitteringfromtheheather,calling‘youfools,you fools’tothebillowingsky.Iamonceagainbeholden totheunbiddenchoreographyofbirds:westering geesepinnedonthemorningsky;thesnickeringof thewrensequesteredinhawthorn;theevening danceofrooksspirallingabovetheashtrees.
Howfarcanwetravelfromthesebrief,patientlives weglimpseinpassing?Whatstoriesdoweneedto tellourselvesinordertotakepart,again,inthe turningworld?
Herecomessunthroughtheclouds;herecomethe risingwaters,thesteadymarchoftemperaturesonedegree,twodegrees-alifemeasuredinparts permillion,inyears,notdecades;inmetresabove sealevel,inprofitmarginsandvaluechainsand shareholderbenefit.
&thefractalbeautyoftheworldcanbedistilledto thatmomentonawinter’seveningwhenthesun dipsbelowthecloudsandbriefly,brilliantly,sunlight spillsatonceacrossthetrees,thehedges,the lichenedribsoflimestone,&wefacetothewest witheyesclosedasthoughthewarmthonourlidsis areminderofsomethingwehavelost,orsomething perhapswhichweneverhad.
Home,wemightsay, isittimetogohome,&weturn awayfromthelastofthesun,towhereshadows overhangthelaneandduskpoolsbeneaththetall bareashtreesliningthehedgerow.Inthevillage, streetlightswinkintolife,onebyone,outshiningthe firstoftheeveningstars.
Author’snote
“Whatdoyouthinkhewouldsayifsomeonehadtoldhimthatwhathe wasseeingbeforewasmerenonsenseandthatnowheisseeingtheactual thingsthemselves?”
Plato,BookVIIofTheRepublic
InPlato’sallegory,agroupofprisonershavespenttheiradult livesshackledinsideacave,watchingonlyshadowsofobjects onthewallcastbythelightofthefirebehindthem.They believethattheshadowsarethetruerepresentationoflife, unawareofthetruelightofthefirebehindthem,unaware alsothatoutsidethecaveistheworld,brightlyilluminated, morerealthantheycouldhaveimagined.
