A Crater, the Moon, and a Moment

Copyright © 2020

by Ralph F. Couey

Image and written content

I work inside a volcano.  An extinct one, to be sure, but still awe inspiring.  Diamond Head rises above the southeast coast of O'ahu, it's familiar shape a landmark as long as people have lived here.  Le'ahi, as it is known by the Hawai'ians, is one of several cones left over from an eruptive period that lasted about 200,000 years about a half-million years ago.  Beyond the obvious, it's a fascinating place.  The state park takes up a good portion of the crater and includes a rather daunting climb up to the summit off the tuff cone which provides a spectacular view.  During a normal (non-pandemic) day, hundreds of tourists arriving by car, bus, tram, and foot make the climb.  When the park is open, it's a busy, noisy place.

But around 6 p.m., the gates across the Kahala tunnel are closed and locked.  Awhile later, the park employees, National Guard, and day workers from the Emergency Management Agency leave for home, and things quiet down.  Those of us who are left are standing watch, monitoring a multitude of websites, radios, and other interesting pieces of technology, prepared to sound the alarm if the worst happens.  

The crater is a very quiet place as the sun goes down.  The thick, high walls keep the noise of the city outside.  They also screen out most of the skyglow, which means it gets dark.  Very dark.  Like, inside a black hole dark.  You can see stars overhead, better than outside.  As the light fades, the slightly rolling plain becomes faded and indistinct.  And then all you hear is the restless wind in the trees.  But what is most striking is the sense of peace.

Sometimes on my break, I go outside around sundown and just stand there for a few minutes.  As far as anyone could tell, I'm not in the middle of a very busy city, but far out in the country with no one else around.  With the sun down, the air has cooled a bit, but still the breeze still feels gently warm as it touches my arms and rustles my hair.  Tonight, the remnant sliver of our moon hung above the crater walls, a beautiful thing to see.  If I looked long enough, I could just make out the portion of the moon not directly illuminated by the sun, but by the gentle reflection of the earth.  This is one of those moments I wrote about yesterday.  For a few minutes, I emptied my mind and let the peace and tranquility of the evening flow through me, like the breeze.  

Sometimes, you have to shut the door on everything else and just be.

There is some life inside Diamond Head at night.  Feral cats, feral chickens, mongoose (mongeese?) and several other forms of life crawl through the underbrush, darting away at the approach of a human.  As the darkness fills the crater, small individual lights can be seen as the homeless clamber over the crater rim and make camp. They will be gone long before the rays of the rising sun illuminate the park, leaving behind trash, torn clothes, uneaten food, the detritus of their existence.  It's not a safe place to be after dark, as assaults are not uncommon, and occasionally, death.  But, in a way, that describes the history of these islands.  Indescribable beauty balanced by unspeakable violence.  

But for a few, precious, beautiful moments, I left the bad behind, and embraced the peaceful beauty.

As moments go, this was a keeper.