I awoke by the sunshine. The beams of light streamed through my window to gently greet me, welcoming me to the day. Rarely do I wake feeling the potential of what the day may bring. Usually, I drag myself out of bed by obligation. Today, I was met with light. Bright, yellow-white light against a bright blue sky. My blinds cracked just enough for me to receive. I read once not to keep the bedroom so dark. They claimed that the natural day/night helped to keep our circadian rhythms healthy. I am now a believer. About a week ago, I was comforted by a full moon which shone its dancing moonbeams from my toes up to my heart. Now today, the light.
As an especially fair, freckled woman, I have had a love, hate, love relationship with the sun. Growing up in a southern state I played and laid in the sun. Summer after summer, I attempted to achieve a “tan,” just so I would look normal, not even dark, just normal. As an adult, I’ve accepted my fairness. Mainly I simply gave up. Secondly, since I’m now older and wiser, the threat of melanoma has convinced me to value myself properly. In between, I’ve enjoyed the rainy days. I’ve taken comfort in what I’ve termed, “the perfectly grey day.” It’s a day with a hue of grey that is not too dark, not too light, simply the goldilocks shade of grey that feels as if I’m safely wrapped in a warm blanket. When I’ve had a big day, I wish for rain. A sunny day would fuel my nervous anxiety, whereas a cloudy, rainy day would soothe me. Fortunately, or unfortunately I live in an area that sees only 160 days of sunshine per year. For reference, Seattle holds 152. It is both a blessing and a curse for me.
My self-discovery and awareness of my wellbeing has taught me that I am more than likely prone to seasonal affective disorder. My fatigue is often worse through February. February is the time when I am worn out, exhausted, and absolutely drained. Although I never mind the shorter days through the Holidays, and you’ve guessed it, I even like it. It brings about a homey warmth, that just wouldn’t be the same if my Christmas was in the Southern Hemisphere. I’m sure those whose holidays are greeted by light find it encouraging and uplifting. Come spring, I’m overdue for light. So, on this morning of Daylight Savings Time, it is very coincidental that light is my teacher.
As with nearly most Sundays, I attend Mass. This morning the light streamed through the stain glass to decorate our souls. Not surprising, the message focused on light. The priest spoke about light and darkness. I was inspired to take notes and share the message. In the dark, our sins are hidden. We hide and protect our wrongdoings. Hiding begets fear. Fear begets hate. Welcome to our current societal climate. Conversely, once when we step into the light, our shame dissolves. We are seen. We are freed from pride’s grasp. Shame and fear no longer hold the power. Nothing is hidden. We are what we are, in all our splendor and deficiency. In the light, we are all seen for our individual truths. In the light, we are forgiven. In the light, we are nourished and loved.
We are all made of darkness and light, a beautiful swirl of yin and yang. In recognizing each other’s faults and gifts we now see how we are much more alike than different. Perfection is now seen as a myth, not a goal. Comparison is now futile. Friends, in the light we are able to both see and be seen. In the light, we are loved and learn how to love. I believe this is where the secret to healing lives.
Whatever my day may offer, I will welcome the light. I will drink it in so that it may radiate through me. Even if just for today, I will be a light.