glow-worms

I am deep in a cave in New Zealand, far beyond the point where natural light can reach. And yet, turning off my head torch, there is something amazing here: the cave roof above my head, and the sloping wall of the cave in front of me, are covered with hundreds, thousands of points of light. They are glow-worms, hanging from delicate threads, and lighting up the cave. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I can see the reflection of the glow-worms in the water. They are bright enough for me to see my own shirt and just about make out my hands and the audio recorder.

And seeing these glow-worms, that look rather like stars in the sky, I am full of a sense of wonder, of awe, of mystery. And for a moment my mind is rather silent. It's as if I am floating in this sense of wonder. And then I notice the thinking mind comes back, asking questions. Why do the glow-worms live here? How do they live here? What do they feed on? What is their source of energy? It seems there is nothing here for them apart from dissolved minerals, seeping from the cave walls. Surely that's not enough to live off.

But these are the thoughts of the mind. And if I really want to appreciate these glow-worms, I have to set such thoughts aside, and just stand here and gaze at them, with this sense of beauty, appreciation, and above all, a sense of wonder, of mystery.

Life is incredible. These glow-worms are reminding me of just what a miracle life is, how inexplicable it is, how unlikely. And we too, are part of this life, and we so easily forget the mystery of life, the mystery of being. We are – in our deepest, innermost core – we are this mystery. And we would do well to return here, and sense it, feel it, acknowledge it.

I give great thanks to these glow-worms: thousands of glowworms lighting up this cave like a starry sky. I give thanks, for they have reminded me that I am mystery.