Here's my theory. On certain nights the ambient temperature closely matches the surface temperature of your skin, or at least that layer of air that's constantly being warmed by the heat your body sheds. And the air is absolutely still. Not even a slight breeze. With no temperature differential, and no air motion, your nervous system has no cues to recognize that it's surrounded by anything. And the dark of night adds a visual element to the sensation of emptiness. Add to that a quiet rural or suburban setting, and your brain is tricked into sensing nothing. I love that illusion.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Still Night Air
I was thinking about this earlier today. I'm sure many of you have had this experience. You're outside on an average Spring or Fall day, sometime after the sun has gone down, when suddenly it hits you. Something feels different...there's an emptiness which seems to completely envelope you. A profound stillness, as if the air has ceased to exist; like you shouldn't be able to breath, but somehow still can. It's an oddly beautiful sensation. As if you're walking in a peaceful vacuum. I've only experienced it a few times, which is part of the fascination. It's randomness adds to its power.
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