We clicked off the last of the lights, and blackness swarmed around us. I remember looking around for a moment, still unaware that my eyes absolutely would not function. The darkness was utter and thick. This was not one of those times in the middle of the night when you could just blink your eyes and relax for a moment and they would slowly adjust to the minute light coming from the stars and the moon. This was the complete absence of light. This is what it must be like to be blind, I thought. I began to feel as if I was alone, though I know there were friends around me. I remember slowly turning my head as if to look around, but there was no change in the darkness to affirm my actions.

Then someone clicked on their light. The rock walls and ceiling and the mud beneath me came back suddenly to form. I grinned in spite of myself. Some people might be uncomfortable in such a darkness, I was just barely getting into it. Sometime I plan on going back to that place and just sitting for a while by myself in that oblivion.

It is a good thing to play with new experiences. The sensation of being blind and alone for instance. It is not a situation that any seeing person would enjoy being in for the rest of their life. But there are two good reasons to experience it. One, if you did find yourself in that place by accident, you would have a familiarity with it. Perhaps it might be easier to cope with the change. Two, you might understand where other people in such a situation were coming from.

I like to call the second one developing compassion. When you try to place yourself in the shoes of another person and see through their eyes some astounding realizations may come to you. At the very least you would gain a better understanding of the difficulties present in their life, and we all need to understand each other better.

So now the light was on, and I could actually look around again. I was in a cave, rock above, below and generally all around me. It was impressive to be down under the surface of the earth, exploring. Most people think of space, or the sea as being great frontiers of the unknown. Personally, I think of the earth in a much similar way. I love the feeling of sliding down a passage, unsure of where it leads but enjoying the exploration. But it's more than that, I like the darkness, the aloneness that you feel while under the ground.

For me, going down underneath the earth is almost a mystical experience. It brings back memories of my childhood dreams, of crawling down a dark, damp tube and finding a strange but lovely place underneath the ground that's all mine. I used to think of crystal waterfalls and lush underground forests, with birds flying through the treetops. Which are just flights of fancy, but when you are a kid, that's what you want. In reality I see mostly grey and brown when I'm down there...rocks and mud. But there is one thing that is true which connects to my youthful dreams, and that thing makes it worth it.

When I am under the earth, as with nowhere else that I have found, I can be alone. Completely alone to myself without having to listen to cars driving by, or the sounds of far-off jets, trains or whatever. It is rare to find a place in the wilderness where you can't actually hear something man-made, and all those somethings can intrude a lot. Underground is another matter, it is quiet, natural. Down there is the purity of the Earth, uncorrupted by man. For the most part at least.

On my journey I learned much from the Earth, I thought a lot about what she might be trying to teach me from time to time. As I went through the rooms and tunnels I had a real opportunity to experience the reality of the earth. I came away from the encounter with an incredible feeling of safety. I can think of no place that is as safe as the inside of a stone.

The first lesson came as a result of my eagerness to explore. After experiencing a few crawls and twists and basically getting a feel for the `way' I noticed a small hole going down. Upon closer inspection I thought that there might be something beyond it. I searched for the best path down to the actual squeeze and decided to go for it. With some twisting and contorting, I managed through the fairly tight pinch into the space beneath. Looking around I determined there was nowhere to go except for back up. So, I proceeded to squirm back up through this squeeze, and then it happened.

I had been worried that even if I was able to go down, something might impede my return progress. Sure enough, I felt myself get stuck it the squeeze upwards. For a few seconds I was worried and started to cast about for something to do, for some way to get out of the situation completely. But then I realized that doing that wasn't going to work. I was stuck, something was caught below me and it was holding me back. So I consciously decided to relax and stop for a minute. I slipped back down to relieve the pressure a little bit, then I took stock of what had happened. Unhitching the small pack that had been caught behind me from the strap around my shoulders, I pushed it up and started back through. This time I went more slowly and felt my way through the squeeze, rather then just flailing, pushing and pulling. Soon enough I was panting on the rocks above, grinning like a bastard. What a great time, eh? But during those moments of stress I remember thinking about what the earth might be trying to tell me. What should I do now?

Relax. That is what I seemed to hear the Earth saying to me. Relax and calm down, we will not harm you. Do not harm yourself.

It holds true in any aspect of life that you go through. When you're in a fix, what is the first thing not to do? Panic, plain and simple. Relax, keep your head on your shoulders and you stand a much better chance of getting through the situation on your own. Something I know yet manage to forget immediately whenever I need to remember it.

The next part that was neat and worth mentioning was just an extension to the first lesson. I was in a small tube behind the others, and there was no space to really move very much. The extent of my motion was shifting from one side to the other or maybe lifting my chest a few inches off the floor. I was lying down on my stomach rather comfortably when I got word that someone was having a problem climbing out of the far end.

Well, I just crossed my arms, laid my head upon them and breathed out a contented sigh. I thought about where I was in this natural tube and could think of no reason to worry. Matter of fact, I felt rather at ease for it was a cozy little place. I was surrounded by a low arch of stone, something created over the span of centuries, maybe even millennium. Talk about respect for your elders.

As I said before, I can think of nothing that is as safe as the inside of a stone. In old days, castles were made of stone for that very reason. They were made to protect people in case of trouble. Here was my castle, and here I could relax.

I was almost disappointed when a few minutes later the person before me started moving forward again. I started out though, so as not to keep everyone waiting. We left the cave shortly after that, moving out into the sun and the open sky. I still remember that damp earthy scent clinging to me, overwhelming my nostrils. It reminds me a little bit of the ocean, but I'm not quite sure why.

I'll leave the connection between water and earth something to be pondered another time. But it is interesting to even notice that connection this way, for on the walk down towards the cave, two frogs crossed my path and drew my attention to them. For some reason, I found this of importance, though I still don't know why. It is definitely something to think about.