Just got back from an hour-long nightwalk.
Yes, I still do those. And I should really come up with a better term than "nightwalk."
Anyway. Walking at night at ND is a lot like walking at night at Purdue, except that Notre Dame has more green, less asphalt, and, in some areas, far fewer lights. Tonight I found my way onto a path I'd never seen in a woods I'd never visited. Now I'm cobwebby and sticky and pretty gross, but also pretty contented.
Stumbling through a dark forest full of cobwebs made me think of "The Hobbit", and I started to feel like Bilbo. Then I realized that:
1. The spiderwebs I was stumbling through were insubstantial,
2. They were made by tiny spiders with no interest in eating me, and
3. I have no cool friends to rescue anyway.
So the analogy kind of fell apart.
Final point:
Night and darkness can do funny things to my imagination. The path I was walking, though dark, was clear. There are no outlaws at Notre Dame, and no really dangerous animals in the Eastern U.S. Even if there were, I'm a reasonably strong person. I run pretty fast, and fight pretty well. There was no rational basis for any fear.
In spite of this, as I crept along through the mud in the tunnel of trees on the trail, the next light 1000 feet off, I got...jittery. I couldn't help it, either: all my senses were on edge, and my nerves were tense. Alone in the dark, I felt very small and very insubstantial and very mortal.
All in all, a very good feeling, and probably edifying in some way, too. I'll have to do this more often.