Starry-eyed

Starry-eyed

 

Riding along Royal Parade the other night I was struck by how unusually peaceful and calm it seemed.

For a while I couldn’t work out why this was until it occurred to me that it was simply that the street lights were out.

 

Traveling the length of Royal Parade in semi light gave me the time to notice just how beautiful and calm the darkness is.

 

It is not something that you often notice, and what came to mind was that you certainly wouldn’t notice it in a car.

 

With an iron roof overhead you don’t get to see, never mind experience, the peace and calm of the night and stars.

 

On a bike I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful it is to travel only guided by the light of stars.

 

I was overcome by a sense of wonder, and a touch of melancholy, at how we’ve managed to loose sight of the fact that the stars are there to guide us, and indeed used to guide us, so much so that we created whole myths and legends around them as we followed them across the heavens.

 

We’ve lost sight of the fact that we had every light we ever required to guide us through the dark of night, and we’ve replaced the soft twinkle of scattered stars with rigid lines of evenly-spaced street lamps.

 

In place of stars and stories and myths and legends, and peaceful nights guided by the stars, we have illuminated concrete.

 

The main thing we lost sight of after we all started traveling by car is that you only ever get to notice how calm the darkness is and just how beautiful the stars are, or even enjoy moments like when the street lights fail, when you travel on two wheels with nothing above you to blot out the sky.

 

In that moment of darkness and calmness and serenity I thanked whoever it was that gave us darkness and stars, and I thanked whatever it was that had me take to bicycling.

 

And I hoped that there would be more nights when the lights and the stars were out.

 

 

Originally published on – The Bike In My Life

 

 

    CATEGORY: The Bike in My Life