November and December this year have reverted to what used to be the usual weather maybe ten or more years ago. The last several years we have been lucky enough to have lots of sunny days and lesser snowfalls than in the “old days.” And I, for one, almost forgot how miserable those days could feel. Everything was gloomy and dark. All because it just stayed so dark all the time. Dawn was reluctant and sunset thumped down like a wet, cold towel.
As I gazed out on the beautiful snowfall, I had a flashback. It used to be common that everyone fell into two groups.. the panickers and the snow chickens. The panickers would go tearing out to the supermarkets at the last possible moment, in a crowd, to buy bread, milk, and toilet paper. Empty shelves seemed the goal. Snow chickens, on the other hand, filled their gas tanks the day before the storm was due and had all the tools and snow gear lined up, prepared for the Acopalypse.
Well, this November reverted to the dark side and my attitude changed. I felt the need to keep the lights on in the house well beyond my usual habit. I even put up a couple of holiday lights. The crescendo came to all this when I gazed out at the beautiful snow fall, just beginning but already coating everything with a pristine white. I felt an urge rise in my heart.
\I grabbed the keys and my coat and scooted out the door. I was into the village in ten minutes, and pulling into the parking lot of the Town Library. Five minutes later I was on my way home with a half dozen mystery novels. There was no need for groceries or other errand running. I was home with my treasure and had my book nest set up in the window near the birdfeeder.
Every so often a perfect day can happen.
I call this day an enlightenment. I was all settled into a snug little circle of light.
Animals, and I certainly include humans, have a powerful response to light. It's essential for all aspects of their lives. The calendar and the clock command certain predestined actions from all of us in order to complete our life cycles. Humans are always yakking about themselves, so we have a great mass of information about how we react to the presence and absence of light. There are whole cultures built around the phenomenon of light. Humans being born meddlers, we have religions built around light, natural and man made. India has the festival of Duwali, a celebration of light (and noise.) It is celebrated so massively that air quality warnings are put out each day, and planes landing at the airports can smell the fireworks in the cabins before they even land.
The Arctic countries host a medly of festivities when the days shrink from sight. The wee village of Burghead in Scotland has a tradition called the Burning of the Clavie that's been a regular event since 400 AD. It involves carrying a barrel of burning oil around the village co celebrate a new year. It's only one of hundreds of fire festivals around the world, each spontaneously a human response to the fear or threat of darkness.
On a smaller scale, regional drive-through light shows and neighborhood decorating contests continue the natural urge to combat darkness. Let's all enjoy whatever version of “enlightenment” we can, and proceed happily through the holidays back into the light.
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