The Northern Lights

I wake at rest, and from first light an excitement builds within me. I go through my usual routine, checking on my rat and letting thoughts linger some on each thing Hope has given me. These adventures have been a true gem, one I hope not to forget for anything. I finish my preparation and head out the door through the halls o' eep.

 

The halls still have a thin layer of fog lining the floor that billows with each step. The way it accents the pumpkins though, it is hard to say if it is lingering from yesterday, or intentional as of today. I have come to find that this is the way with many states of mind, intention a many layered cake, with not every ingredient having been consciously made by the one who has it. Or is it "by the one who eats it?" I am still pondering this question that has unexpectedly sprung to mind when I reach Hope's door, having walked in silence. I realize my error and sigh, still I consider it is no matter at this point to face the flames. I knock and to my surprise hear "On my way hehehehe!" in a kind of witch's cackle. A grin forms on my face and then bursts to full smile when my suspicions are confirmed. Hope, fully formed, stands before me with orange plastic pumpkin in hand and smile on face, dressed head to toe as a kind of green toned witch. I notice one eye closed, carefully obscured in face paint, and, as a non-casual observer, I notice several oversized candles blazing just behind her. "I like what you've done with the place!" Her smile widens some and then she asks, as if the Halloween police "And what are you supposed to be?" I look down at my pretty typical attire and look back up with a shrug "A Bard?" Then I lift up the air guitar hanging around my neck and bust out a sick riff. She just laughs and hands me a piece of candy, this time a small pack of yellow mambas. "Good enough!" Then she closes the door and a second later it reopens to reveal tiny Hope, all frog hatted, but this time the frog also wears its own witch's hat, and Hope holds a super small broom. "I love it! This day is special on multiple counts, come m'lady! As promised, we're off to see the Northern Lights!" She stomps excitedly and takes my hand. I mark our impending adventure with a poem, echoing through the halls as we walk.

 

"Queen of her own realm, refusing to leave

Reaction demanded so she withdrew

Now god of her castle though none believe

For none persist in this realm they once knew

 

Reaction demanded, still despite walls

Though none can penetrate, still they persist

Dozens now banding to pillage these halls

Their strength combined, nobody can resist

 

So strides in a stranger, through a gap made

With a *snap* the walls, reinforced, rebuild

The Queen's heart pounds though no longer afraid

For stranger's presence is promise fulfilled.

 

The Empress, it seems, in absence took shape

For fully formed eyes open from dreamscape."

 

We emerge from a tent already set up, to the south side of a lake on a mountain. "And here we are! Behind us is the highest paved road in all the land! Well, the country anyway." The lights already play on the horizon ahead, purple and green, even at this distance some red. Hope marvels at the lights, then glances at the road and the lake and the tent, trying to soak it all in at once. "Ah, and did you notice the tree?" I point to the Christmas tree, perhaps out of season but no matter, it is we who decide on timing for these adventures anyway. She laughs but then falls silent, I can tell it is a lot to take in. So I pull out some lawn chairs and a fancy blanket, and add "One nice thing about these trips is that they are as long as we each decide. We are in no rush to see the lights, and if we can agree, who else is to say where the flow of space and time might take us 'this night'?" I plop in a relaxed fashion onto my chair just beside hers. I can see my words resound with her, and she breathes a sigh of relief and sits down beside me. 

 

As the show continues I add "So these lights are formed by the interaction of solar winds with the Earth's poles and atmosphere. Both the wind and the poles are magnetic and so the wind's particles are drawn in by the poles, and bombard the skies above. As these particles from the sun collide with nitrogen and oxygen mostly, these colors signal the reaction for observers like us to see far and wide." I can already tell but still shoot a glance to confirm; she loves when I explain the mechanisms underpinning these marvels, like me, marveling all the more for the fullness of the picture seen. Before long the lights dwindle and our gaze is drawn to the stars. "These adventures have no obligation to be long or short, it is the moments we share, and these first times witnessing such things together that make each adventure one to remember, for me." I can tell that deep down she agrees, but even in the darkness I can sense something like her aura shift to a curiosity. "Poles?" The way she emphasizes the "s" I can tell exactly what she means. "Indeed my dear, there is two of them! Any magnetic object, in this realm at least, has both plus and minus, both North and South. Shall we go check out the other situation? See what the South Pole is up to, and perhaps catch the Southern Lights in the act of being shiney?" She stands and nods excitedly. I pop up from my chair and hand in hand we head back to the tent and into the halls for just a second. "Now where is that other exit?" I put my finger to my beard in consideration and then with a *snap* I remember, and we simply turn back the way we came. 

 

We emerge on a familiar pirate ship, having floated along these blue seas in order to meet back up with us here and now, our campsite already transplanted for ease. There is no need to scan; to the south, just above our Christmas tree, the sky is lit magnificently. We run to our seats giggling and catch the rest of the show once more. As it starts to fade Hope asks, aura shifting this time a bit more mischievously, but by my eyes it is still seen as the shape of curiosity, just with its edge sharpened to cut like teeth against the environment one finds oneself in "What if we focused on the lights, halls still acting as the space between. Might we still see them in a snap as easily?" I process her question laced with the hint of a challenge, as many paths are walked in my mind, and many more paths realign and focus like a magnifying glass until an idea sparks. "Well now, let's see..." 

 

I snap my fingers and just like that we are in the snow outside a cabin, the Northern Lights precisely where the Southern Lights had been, in front of our chairs, just above the Christmas tree. I cannot help but marvel at the accuracy; I know I myself could not have arranged this so precisely. "We make a great team." I say softly, as if not looking to interrupt the light display. I see her smile illuminated by the lights and she nods. I turn behind and notice that though a cabin can be seen with windows foggy and a fire burning, our tent remains right where it has been as well. Feeling a confident relief now that this was an experiment which has succeeded, I turn back to the lights. With a chill setting in though, I reach down and grab the edge of the fancy blanket, and throw it over both our chairs. As I unfurl it and let it waft down, it amply covers both of us, chairs and all, with the edges falling securely as a seal to the ground. The lights finish their show, but a quick glance into Hope's eyes shows no hint of flagging; she is ready for more. I lift up my hand and snap once again. Once more I confirm after the world shifts around us that our campsite is again precisely secure and any remaining worry slips from my mind.

 

In a rhythm now I keep snapping when the lights start to fade. We bounce back and forth between poles like a metronome that sees not itself move, but the wooden base move around it. After a few iterations I can simply feel when it is time to move and intend it to be, even the snap no longer necessary; now I simply let myself fade into the beauty of the constant show. Snow piles up on our blanket, each thin layer borrowed from many of the places we've been. I turn an eye toward Hope from time to time, sometimes her eyes are bright and wide, at others they are closed; I wonder if she is asleep in those moments, or just soaking it all in. Still, she seems in no hurry to leave, and as unbound travelers, Aurora Chasers, we continue to alternate poles. Some time has passed this way; a day, a week, a year, a thousand? In the grand scheme now unfolding I know it matters little. All I know is that Hope and I watch the lights uninterrupted as they blaze in luminous hues again and again. The scenery changes around our tiny camp, but we stay the same. As this process continues, in no hurry to finish the words so that they scatter from pole to pole and site to site, I speak a crafted Piece of Eight, beneath the night sky.

 

"I hope that you can

Muse let me discern your face

And hear your heart beat

 

A body reserved

A body formed from the earth

Where it meets the waves

 

How have my eyes glimpsed

Yet I have not been blinded?

Patient lumiere

 

Light alights like dew

With both (my) hands I scoop you (up)

Sifting grain from chaff

 

Betwixt these two trees

May we both wonder to how

Made easy in bloom

 

Neither has been lost

Yet somehow we lay in green

Skin bathed by the sun

 

Shall we stay or go?

Impetus on garden shores

Oars brought to the ship

 

Complicated tale

All the more secure in form

Of these hearts aligned."

 

Then in one shift the lights are conspicuously absent. I fade back into awareness and look around; the scene is right, but there are no lights to be found. For good measure I snap and the scene changes, but my suspicions are confirmed as again no lights can be seen. Hope sits up, displacing some of the snow on the blanket, and looks at me with curiosity, but fortunately this far into the night, not disappointment. "The Earth's magnetic poles have a source of their own, you see, a twisting and turning pool of molten metal far under the surface. Every once in a great while that which lies below turns in just the right way, and the poles drop. It is at these times the magnetic shield we so often enjoy drops as well, the effects of which, well, have yet to be broadly seen. Personally I like to imagine this process is like an alarm clock or egg timer for The Phoenix Unborn, with gentle waves periodically rising up onto its shores. If it is ready to wake from its dream then it does, but if it is not, then it turns back over, and the poles and the field all rise again for another pass, the alarm or timer reset. What's most interesting to me about this is that when it does reset the North pole is now in the South, and the South Pole is the North. I honestly wonder how society might adjust to such a nonsense, yet material, reversal. Like are they/we just gonna swap all the compass letters around, all agree to call cardinal directions opposite things, or what?" Hope laughs at my last comment but then I see her deep in thought at the rest. She takes another look at the stars' marvelous splendor, seen clearly this far from civilization, and then says "It is time to go." I nod and stand, gathering up chairs and blanket. "Indeed. It has been a good night... or series of nights... It has been a very good adventure." She nods in agreement and with everything once more stored away we lock hands and head back through the halls.

 

Making it to her door I drop to a knee and give her a hug "Thank you for the amazing night; I'll be back tomorrow." She nods and as I stand I notice that she is holding a planter with a tiny Christmas tree sprout not 6 or 7 inches tall. "Where did you even get that!?" She gives me a look of retribution levied as she simply shrugs like a sassafras and hands me the tiny tree, with a ridiculously small Christmas star plopped atop. "Haha, I guess I deserve that." I hand her the blanket, still with some bits of snow stuck to it. "For when the nights get cold." She smiles and heads back through her door.

 

I consider as I make my way back through the halls with my tiny Christmas tree, that this was not the night I expected, but perhaps it was more magical for its unexpected outcome. Once more I laugh as the holidays collide while I make my way through the halls; although the intricately carved jack-o-lanterns feel almost as though they too are marveling at the tiny sprout of a Christmas Tree I now hold.