Vol. 13: Go Crawl in a Cave
Everything begins and ends underground. Breathe in. Breathe out. Okay.
TW: Assault
Things come in waves. That is the universe's way. Last week I was talking about my trip to Mammoth Cave National Park and last night I was talking about my emotional entanglement with Mitski's music, and here we are: an article about Mitski visiting Mammoth Cave—a gift from the algorithm itself. The whole piece is worth a read, but it's the final act that knocked me out. As author E. Alex Jung writes:
Now that we’ve experienced lantern light, our guide suggests we should go one step further, and he snuffs the light out: true darkness. I put my hand out in front of me and flutter my fingers and, for a brief moment, feel as though I can see a flicker — a phantom bird flitting into my field of vision. But it’s just the brain groping for a ledge. I imagine myself unspooling into the void. I sense Mitski drifting away. Too quickly the light returns and breaks the spell.
“I’m sorry I left you all alone,” Mitski says, walking back toward me.
“I’m sad he turned the lights back on,” I say.
“I know,” she whispers. “I wanted to trip right here and be trampled. I wanted to fall down and be destroyed in this cave.”
Just days ago I found myself laughing at the absurdity of a book passage. I will not name which one. A character that had been so rocked by a volume of poetry, she threw it clear across the room. It seemed so extreme in the moment, to be moved to an awkward, physical reaction. I felt embarrassed for this fictional character. How embarrassing to be merely human! But here I was, sitting at my desk, thinking about caves and feeling the hot burn of oncoming tears.
I think we lose part of ourselves underground, not unlike divers and pilots who quickly lose track of which way is up and which way is down. It's a terrifying sensation to be all of a sudden in an unfamiliar world with no way to right yourself other than to trust your gut. (I know I lose the metaphor here a bit—I would much rather pilots trust their gauges.) But there is something freeing about the cool darkness. That desire to slip away, never to be seen again in that form.
Years ago, on an ill-fated trip to Louisville, while I tried to compulsively patch together a doomed relationship I didn't even really want to be in, we ventured off to Mammoth Cave for an adventure. Arriving between tour slots, we decided to take a short hike to bide our time. Halfway up the hill it dawned on me that I had a backpack full of solutions for the worst-case-scenario: water bottle, snacks, Swiss Army knife, Band-aids. He had...his wallet...car keys?
I felt so betrayed by the lack of care and forethought that from the moment we entered the cave system itself, I felt myself trying to slip away like a minnow in the shallows. He kept reaching out and I kept looking for a way, not out, but elsewhere. On the car ride home, before a night of unconscionable violence, I wrote this poem:
It's not one thing in particular That makes the walls crumble It's years Months Weeks of erosion Telling me you want this Need this It makes the defenses collapse I want to slip out of your grip In the cool darkness Find footing among gypsum and saltpeter I'm right, I yell Just to hear the echos I'll ruin an entire state In granite smoothed By time and closeness I lose track Of how my limbs connect to their joints I'll ruin an entire state, I've decided, To get fresh air
I don't often share this kind of work publicly, but I felt myself coming back to it today—a reminder of the intoxicating power of wanting to be destroyed and the warmth of the sun when you finally step out of the cave.
I, too, feel myself unspooling—broken open simultaneously by a crushing, breathless memory and the possibility of a future.
P.S. of course, of course!
Poetry can absolutely make us want to throw our books across the room. How foolish I was to forget in the heat of the moment. How beautiful to be merely human.
It’s all I have to bring today -
This, and my heart beside -
This, and my heart, and all the fields -
And all the meadows wide -
Be sure you count - sh’d I forget
Some one the sum could tell -
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.
-Emily DickinsonAnd A Small Research Rabbit Hole…
Q: What is saltpeter used for and is it true it reduces certain “carnal urges?”
A: The second part of the question is easy to answer. “Saltpetre,” (the term refers either to potassium or sodium nitrate) has no effect on carnal urges. The story that this chemical was put into soldiers’ food to decrease their sex drive is a total myth.
-McGill Office for Science and Society, “Separating Sense from Nonsense”