From Fear to Familiarity
As i drove through the M5 towards Weston-Super-Mare, the rhythmic hum of the tyres beneath me stirred a familiar reflection. There’s something meditative about long stretches of motorway at night or in the dark, the kind of solitude that invites old proverbs to whisper their wisdom. One surfaced gently from memory: the Yoruba saying, “Alẹ tí ó tọ́jú ènìyàn ṣù, òkùnkùn e ṣòro rìn.” Literally translated, it means, “When it doesn’t fall dark in your presence, the dark paths are difficult to navigate.” That saying found its echo somewhere between the M49 slip road and the rising contours of the Gordano Heights.
The M5 in that stretch is both majestic and menacing, a wide ribbon of tarmac that winds through gentle hills and elevated bridges, offering fleeting glimpses of the Severn Estuary when daylight permits. However, by night, it’s an entirely different creature. The familiar turns disappear into inky blackness; the headlights carve out temporary corridors of clarity, only for the darkness to reclaim them moments later. My first journeys along this route took place in winter, those months when daylight retreats far too quickly and evening seems to arrive before one has even had the chance to breathe. I would set out during that deceptive twilight and before long, the light would dissolve into deep darkness. My only companions were the headlights, the voice of my friend via the phone and the haunting silhouette of the hills.
I remember how the height of the Gordano bridge used to unsettle me. I would instinctively ease my foot off the accelerator, slowing to forty-five, perhaps fifty miles per hour. I must have been a quiet frustration to those who knew the road better, gliding confidently past me while i clung nervously to the inside lane. My world was small then, just the illuminated patch ahead of me, a few yards of visibility and the sound of my own cautious breathing. However, tonight was different. As i journeyed again through that same night, the reflection on my dashboard caught my eye. The speedometer hovered around seventy, perhaps a little more. I had even overtaken someone across the high bridge, something i would never have dreamt of doing a year ago.
The realisation came with a quiet smile: i had not become fearless; i had become familiar. The secret, if there was one, lay in the passing of the seasons. During the summer months, i had driven this same stretch countless times under an open sky. I had seen it drenched in sunlight, felt its gentle slopes, memorised its bends and the rhythm of its carriageways. I knew where the wind pressed hardest and where the descent opened towards Weston-Super-Mare, revealing that long-awaited glimmer of sea and lights in the distance. So now, even as darkness returned, it held no threat. The road hadn’t changed; i had. What was once frightening was now familiar; every curve, incline and every subtle shift of the terrain was recalled through experience. I could, as the saying goes, drive it with my eyes closed.
That Yoruba proverb lingered with me as i drove on: “When it doesn’t fall dark in your presence, the dark paths are difficult to navigate.” It isn’t merely about literal darkness. It speaks to life itself, to those moments when uncertainty clouds our path and progress feels perilous. Yet, just as daylight once revealed the road to me, experience, time and familiarity illuminate the once-unfamiliar terrains of life. The darkness doesn’t change; we do. With each repetition, each lesson learned, the night becomes less intimidating. What once slowed us now strengthens us. Then one day, almost imperceptibly, we find ourselves overtaking where once we trembled, gliding through life’s high bridges at seventy miles an hour and no longer defined by the fear that once held us back.
As the lights of Weston-Super-Mare finally shimmered in the distance, i felt a quiet sense of arrival, not just at a destination but at a deeper understanding: The paths we once feared are the same ones that, through patience and persistence, teach us how to walk boldly in the dark.
Inspired by this journey from fear to familiarity? What’s a dark road you have successfully navigated in your life? Share your story of moving past uncertainty and finding confidence in a space you once feared.
