Searching for Bright Light

Maples in my courtyard with blue sky, as I finish this post.

I often relate to the title of my blog, "searching for bright light." This morning, most of the neighborhood where I live was bathed in luscious autumn golden sunshine, but my particular block was enshrouded in the thickest of gray fog.

As we move to the time of year when sunrise occurs here long after the alarm rings, I become disheartened.  I have a craving for strong sunlight; I need its warmth and benevolence on my face. Is it just photophilia, an enjoyment and appreciation for brightness, or is there a deeper basis for my need?

When the 33 miners emerged from the Chilean mine in which they were entombed for 69 days, the world cheered not just their liberation from claustrophobic encasement. After all, the men had the run of long tunnels; Edison Pena, a triathlete, jogged 6 miles daily there for exercise.  The men's emergence, in sunglasses to guard their eyes from overexposure, symbolized the transition from despair to hope, from deathly interment to the nurturing sunlight of freedom.  Many said it was a rebirth, a complete emotional and spiritual overhaul, not just because they avoided death but because they emerged to the "brilliance" of insight.

Was it coincidence that yesterday I was reading Proverbs 4:18: "The path of the righteous is like the glow of sunlight, growing brighter until high noon, but the way of the wicked is like darkness, they know not upon what they stumble."  I'd been searching for a different reference, but that verse leaped out.

As Jews, we are to greet the day with boundless enthusiasm, opening our eyes with "modeh ani, lifanecha, melech chai vikayam...," Hebrew for "I thank You, right here before You, living King forever!"  The blessing continues to express gratitude for the faithfulness with which God gives us another day, another chance.

My enthusiasm takes a hit when I have to arise in total darkness.  And my mood sags in overcast and rain.  Seasonal affective disorder--depression from lack of sunshine--is so rampant here in the Northwest that soon after I moved here, I went to a busy store called "The Indoor Sun Shoppe" and bought the bright sun-simulator that sits about a foot away from me here on my desk. A friend gave me an alarm clock with a lamp that gradually brightens in the hour before the set time.

Happiness and insight metaphors always correspond to sunshine and light. "Never saw the sun shining so bright, never saw things going so right," are lyrics of a song two of my kids frequently sing, called, 'natch, "Blue Skies."  The Beatles' "Good Day, Sunshine" begins, "I need to laugh, and when the sun is out, I've got something I can laugh about."  The classic "You Are my Sunshine" croons, "You make me happy when skies are gray...please don't take my sunshine away!"

Do you ever see catalogs like Crate and Barrel or Pottery Barn showing furniture vignettes without sunlight pouring in?  And the pinnacle of God's Ten Plagues was to inflict on the Egyptians isolating, penetrating darkness.  Sunshine=good. Darkness=bad.  The Lone Ranger wore a white hat and rode a white horse, despite the constant dust and dirt of the trail (which is probablyhow his outfit got gray).  Darth Vader just couldn't be so evil dressed in pastels.  And if you ever saw the delightful film "The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit" (1998) you'll remember that when each of the five lovable schlubs who jointly bought the completely white ensemble puts it on, he's transformed into a better, more elegant, more respectable man.  The power of light to bring out the good.

Well, as I've written about my yearning for sunshine, the fog has dissipated and a cerulean sky contrasts with the red and orange maple in my courtyard.  'Scuse me as I step onto the patio for some life-giving Vitamin D and inspiration.

Clocks "Falling Back" and the Search for Bright Light

Did you remember to spring forward, and now, this weekend, fall back? Even though we get an "extra" hour of sleep--or work, or weekend--I really dislike this end to daylight savings time. I love the sun, and its warmth, and its brightness--after all, I even named my blog "searching for bright light." Living in the Northwest, we have greater extremes of light than most of the US, and FAR greater extremes than I grew up with in Los Angeles. But even there, I recall being thrilled and delighted as the summer solstice approached, and the light lingered until 8:30 pm. Here, in the Seattle area, the summer solstice brings light until 10 pm, and the sun comes up by 5.

And of course, winter brings the reverse. We wake up in the darkness starting in early October. Even after daylight savings time leaves, with that "extra" hour in the morning, it's not light till 8 am. But of course our famous cloud cover often means it's never truly light at all. And then, by 4:45, it's dark again.

Lots of people buy "light boxes" to stave off "seasonal affective disorder," which is depression caused by lack of light. I bought one myself, though it's stayed in the closet many years because I just don't have time to sit there in front of it. The light box perches on my table and emits really strong, bright light in the sun spectrum. I purchased it from a place called "the Indoor Sun Shoppe," renowned for its uber-selection of mood-enhancing light boxes. (I call it the Indoor Sun Shop-ee because of that silly spelling).

When God made the world, He said "V'yhee ohr," Let there be light. Not, "let there be rotations of the earth around the sun, creating night and day," though that did happen later. No, the creation of light is something special, something symbolically spiritual. "I see the light!" means, "I understand!" We require light to see, for our eyes to work. The pop song goes, "I can see clearly now, the rain has gone...gone are the dark clouds that had me blind...It's gonna be a bright, bright sunshine-y day!" In other words, light=happy and good and insightful, while dark=ominous, sad, blind, stymied.

In Scandinavia, Lucia Day celebrates the return of lengthening days after the winter solstice, and once the days reach their peak, the Midsommer Festival revels in the brightness through the night. The universal association of winter with death, and spring with rebirth is a direct result of darkness and light, cold and warmth.

We love Chanuka, the festival of light, because it illuminates the darkness not only with candlelight but with the strength of Jews who fought the Hellenistic assimilation that threatened our connection with God.

So I really must fight the negativity that comes with turning back the clocks. I'll just doff my thermal underwear and several layers and put on my jammies early, cozy by the fire...ok, I'll sit right here by my computer, space heater inches away, drinking hot chocolate (with chocolate chips and almonds, of course) and focus on gratitude for every day I'm healthy, every moment my family's safe, every opportunity I have to express myself, accomplish important tasks and live in this great land. The good news is that even in the darkest time of year, neighbors are putting up colorful lights and singing songs and welcoming friends. We're all certainly too blessed to complain about such a small thing as having to reset our clocks.