shadows

When I was a small boy I ran everywhere, even to school. We lived on a hill and I used to run up and down that hill every morning and evening. I wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere, I just loved to run and chase my own shadow, especially when it was late afternoon and my shadow stretched out all the way up the hill. The faster I ran, the further it got away from me. If the light was just right my shadow would flicker and dance then disappear into the other shadows that were cast by the tall trees that lined either side of the lane leading to my house. Often I was so captivated by my own shadow that I didn’t look up or around until I’d reached the top or bottom of the hill, nothing else existed. Depending on the season the shadow could be as dark as the night sky, with an outline so sharp that I could count all the fingers on my outstretched hand, other times it would be soft and grey like the big rain clouds that so often punctuated the changeable spring days in the Yorkshire countryside. 

Just like then, when I see my shadow now, for a brief moment I have the feeling of being here and not being here, my shadow can reach and touch things, that I can still only grasp at. It’s not the same as with a reflection, which holds too much detail, and can lead to a kind of self absorption, accidentally seeing ourselves randomly projected into the flow of life. Another thing about shadows, although they were once used to quite accurately show us the time, they don’t really age, they still only get longer or shorter depending on the time of day.