There is so much darkness out there in the world: war and injustice. Yet colonial myth has taught us to demonise nature and accept the agency of greedy corporations.
Nature’s Living Light: Dance of Fireflies
I have been scared of darkness most of my life. It’s not the darkness itself, but the inability to see what lies in my surroundings. It’s the unfathomable, the lack of certainty. Yet there I was, on my bike at dusk, leaving the city behind, not a human in sight, only the waning moon watching over me. In the fields farther from the city, near the darkest path, songs of crickets and nocturnal birds marked their territory. In the absence of human-made sounds, nature was playing a different tune, vivacious and soulful. Each song was perhaps a song of love, calling for a mate, filled with longing. A part of me felt I shouldn’t be there, that I should let nature be.
Then came the light. A firefly. Twinkling at the edge, seeming as small as the distant stars above. I stepped into the woods; awe took over fear. My mind lingered on how and why they glow. By taking oxygen from the environment, they kindle a molecule in their abdomen called luciferin—a light nearly 100% more efficient than the one produced by a tiny bulb. It’s a biological process that happens almost as naturally as breathing for us.
The light that made me follow the fireflies didn’t evolve to captivate humankind. The wonders of nature evolve for a function; beauty always has a purpose for itself. The first firefly lit up 100 million years ago, and their light became a sign to predators that they weren’t to be reckoned with. Since then, all species of fireflies light up as larvae, even those that don’t glow in adulthood. But the ones that do are conversing through light.
Each species has its own pattern, with males taking flight. Some make a symbol like “J,” while others flash periodically in intervals. There are also a few species that go into a frenzy and light up in synchronicity, a swarm of fireflies, a single breathing constellation. It’s an enigma for scientists and mathematicians alike. Yet there is always some deviation—outliers that flash patterns at their own pace, out of synchronicity with their immediate environment. Perhaps I’m an outlier myself, chasing ephemeral lights. I wasn’t scared of the darkness anymore. Something from my primaeval nature took over me; I was freed.
After a few days, I was going around the fields in daylight. There I saw him, an Egyptian-Italian man. He often greets me. I don’t know him well, but he warns me that I should be more aware. He says dark energies linger, taking the forms of nature beings. It made me a bit uncomfortable.
I trust nature. Yet at dusk, standing at the edge, I couldn’t enter the fields. His voice echoed in my head, and even the fireflies were fewer—almost gone. A bit disappointed with my own lack of courage, I began to wonder. There is so much darkness in the world: war and injustice. Yet colonial myth has taught us to demonise nature and accept the agency of greedy corporations. I’m certain that if there is something dark out there in the world, it’s not hiding in nature, in silence. It’s making itself known each time it steals from the poor, poisons the river, and pushes nature to the brink of irreparable damage—harming creatures of light
Perhaps next season, when the fireflies emerge longing for union, I will be brave enough to wander once again in the dark. Perhaps nature will be more familiar—a home, not the unknown. I will be there, waiting for the light.
