The fall of light in the evening at home is always spectacular, but there is something holy in the way it lands inside the house during winter. The sun sets across the cove in perfect alignment with my living room providing reasonable consolation for how little light we get this time of year. The low sun illuminates the empty spaces & lost corners of the house making every inch feel sacred.
It does not matter how many times I have watched the light fall in this way- the elusive gold pouring down the walls landing on the arm of the sofa & creating a halo around piles of undone laundry in a way that makes their undoneness feel perfect & whole- I am seduced over and over. It reminds me of the light you see filtering through stained glass in the most elaborately designed cathedrals. The kind of light that turns nonbelievers, even if their turning only lasts long enough for the light to fade.
Damn, I love a sunset. I love a sunrise, too. Why do you think we are drawn to these fleeting cusps? Why has the heart declared “this is beauty!”?
Are we drawn to light because it feels safe? Yes, that is probably true. But the transitions from night to day & day to night seem to be the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful offerings of the sun. They remind us that nothing lasts and yet, everything returns. Never is it exactly the same, but it is the same enough, I suppose. I watch the setting sun as often as possible to study impermanence and to practice the art of letting go. Sunset is just another gorgeous death of an energy that is born again in the morning and to spend time with this visual phenomenon is an opportunity to practice the many deaths and rebirths we face in a single lifetime.
There will certainly be more to come on this topic, but I wonder, what does light mean to you?
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