somber straits

Like earthbound stars, shimmering on the surface of glass, a thousand shards of electric blue light floated freely in Sumida river. It was quite pretty. In a gentle way, they swayed to the quiet waltz of the water. Floating among the reflected clouds and above the deep, dark sky, they sloshed past.

It was to remember the fireflies, they said. There were thousands in the Spring, when the weather shifted and shrugged off the cold, and opened its arms to the warm sun. And in Edo-era tradition, they made a sport of catching fireflies here. They'd catch one or two in a lantern, to light the way home.

It's quite dreamy, isn't it? Even though I knew about the chemical reactions that yielded they're intriguing luminescence, there was a magical quality about this unworldly glow that teetered in the darkness. And I thought, it's good to know these things. The real world may, for the most part, be a harsh, no-nonsense kind of place, but there are glimpses through the fog.

There is more to the world. There is mystery in every quiet street, intrigue in every worn path, and promise in the shifting currents of the river. And though sometimes we may lose our way, stumble off the trail, or sink in the murky darkness, we simply need to hold on to the memory of light.

I like to think that life is the attempt to fill the heart with bright things. Like a lantern in the darkness, like a bouy in the turbulent sea, if you fill your heart with simple joy and simple kindness, the journey grows easier; the burden, lighter.

Like fireflies, from their light comes a lightness of being, and perhaps, like me, they dream to one day earn the serenity of the stars.

Photo Credit: Catching Fireflies by the Sumida River by Utagawa Kunisada I