Nov
26
From Darkness, We Can See the Dimmest Light
I sit often now in the darkness, which is the place from which I read, into which I write, in which I watch, through which I listen.
It is not that I prefer the darkness, nor that I am repelled by it. Darkness is both comforting and frightful. It is simultaneously the venue for sleeping and for living through nightmares. Since most of my dreams are nightmares, I might fear the dark, but I rarely have as an adult. I know that the darkness might hide dangers, but I can also hide within it.
And I don't retire to the darkness because of truly practical considerations. I'm not trying to save utility costs by keeping lights off.
Instead, I have lost my need to be bathed in light to do what I want to do. I am working more and more with screens, even though I work so much with my hands.
It is not that I prefer the darkness, nor that I am repelled by it. Darkness is both comforting and frightful. It is simultaneously the venue for sleeping and for living through nightmares. Since most of my dreams are nightmares, I might fear the dark, but I rarely have as an adult. I know that the darkness might hide dangers, but I can also hide within it.
And I don't retire to the darkness because of truly practical considerations. I'm not trying to save utility costs by keeping lights off.
Instead, I have lost my need to be bathed in light to do what I want to do. I am working more and more with screens, even though I work so much with my hands.