I love this piece and am grateful for your guidance.
It brought to mind a couple of things that people one generation up from me have done in love for me (one makes me laugh and grimace inside, and the second makes me smile):
When I step outside at night to look at the stars, my mother-in-law (raised in Cortez) turns on the porch light “so you can see better”.❤️
When I’d go camping with my dad (raised in Brooklyn), he’d say, “don’t turn on your flashlight; we’ll see more without it.”❤️
Oh I love this anecdote, Davie. Thank you for sharing it!
It brings up a deeper question for me, about how those of us who were socialized female, were disproportionately taught to fear the dark. I get that there are some good reasons for this: the threat of a male attacker is real. But in my own experience, it has always felt like the fear is conditioned to be way bigger than is justified. For example: I can't tell you how many times I have solo hiked up a trail in the evening - sometimes not even backpacking, just hiking - and people have asked me incredulously - "You're alone? Well, be careful!" Usually its men, but occasionally women get into the act too. And it feels shitty. I wonder - should I be afraid? Am I crazy to be out here now? And then, when I realize that these are unwanted projections from a patriarchal society, I spend a few minutes ruminating on all of the ways I wish I had responded! Such as: "I can feel your concern and care, but do you realize you're suggesting that I should be afraid, and that I shouldn't be out here? How do you think that feels to me? Would you make the same remark to a man?" and blah blah blah.
I was tempted to write about this in this piece, but it was already so long, I felt I couldn't do it justice! So thanks for giving me the opportunity!
Yes. Goodness gracious, how should someone respond internally, externally, to unbidden words to the effect of: hey, you’re by yourself and I’d like to interrupt you to let you to know that I see you as vulnerable to attack.
Thank you for this. What a welcome alternative, on this particular day, to the otherwise ubiquitous "content" in this season suggesting New Habits, a New Diet, a New Organizational Method, etc. These are possibly beneficial endeavors, but so very often the way we write about and engage in them centers individualized Accomplishment (which easily comes with self-judgment and shame) and a capitalist sensibility of Optimizing Outcomes. This strikes me as spiritually opposite (to put it mildly!) from what you are describing.
One specific thing that struck me is that your first suggested practice:
"Take a chair, sit down right outside your house, and bear witness to the miracle of nightfall.
Pay attention to the emergence of wildlife you might not see or hear during the day."
lands a bit differently in my dense city surroundings. There certainly is some urban "wildlife", especially if you count free-roaming neighborhood cats along with the raccoons and occasional skunks, but our nightfall is always incomplete, with outdoor lighting and headlights ever-present. I'd be curious to hear reflections or practices from others readers who live with large amounts of light pollution.
Thank you for your thoughtful response, Colin! I agree that all of the 'shoulds' that emerge around this time of year can be harmful, and reinforce the capitalist paradigm, locating the problem in individuals rather than systems.
In my own experience, I have still been able to appreciate nightfall when living in urban settings. Whether it is sitting on your front porch without turning on a light, or going to a park where you feel safe, or even just sitting beside (or in?) a tree on the street, you can still get many of the same benefits. When I lived in Denver, I discovered that coyotes frequented the bike path by the river. When I lived in Brooklyn, I found that there were parts of Prospect Park where I felt safe enough to sit in the twilight. It takes some exploration! And I encourage you to honor rather than dismiss urban wildlife such as the stray cats, raccoons, and skunks. When I sit outside my rural house, its not as if suddenly I see mountain lions, foxes and owls starting to party! Sometimes it's just a crow swooping overhead!
Thanks for bringing urban considerations into the discussion.
FWIW my scare-quotes on "wildlife" weren't meant to dismiss urban wildlife in any substantive way (I agree they should be honored and appreciated!). That was more of a linguistic nod of recognition that those four-legged neighbors in particular are also non-wild in important ways, given how much their surroundings and behavior are influenced by human domination of the local ecosystem.
I love what you wrote Kris and the research you shared. I am a creature of the darkness. I just love the silence, the comfort, and how it brings me so much calmness. Thank you for talking about the power of the dark, community, and our inner world. Sandra
Thank you for your offerings Kris. This resonates so deeply and feels so relieving to see some of my own feelings finally expose themselves into words/thoughts. This addiction to light reminds me of our society's addiction to happiness.
I've led Solstice circles that focus on darkness instead of light, but have always had the tunnel vision of darkness = shadow, negative, heavy. Thank you for expanding my perspective.
I appreciate the balance of philosophical depth & light practicality you offer with your wisdom.
I love this piece and am grateful for your guidance.
It brought to mind a couple of things that people one generation up from me have done in love for me (one makes me laugh and grimace inside, and the second makes me smile):
When I step outside at night to look at the stars, my mother-in-law (raised in Cortez) turns on the porch light “so you can see better”.❤️
When I’d go camping with my dad (raised in Brooklyn), he’d say, “don’t turn on your flashlight; we’ll see more without it.”❤️
Oh I love this anecdote, Davie. Thank you for sharing it!
It brings up a deeper question for me, about how those of us who were socialized female, were disproportionately taught to fear the dark. I get that there are some good reasons for this: the threat of a male attacker is real. But in my own experience, it has always felt like the fear is conditioned to be way bigger than is justified. For example: I can't tell you how many times I have solo hiked up a trail in the evening - sometimes not even backpacking, just hiking - and people have asked me incredulously - "You're alone? Well, be careful!" Usually its men, but occasionally women get into the act too. And it feels shitty. I wonder - should I be afraid? Am I crazy to be out here now? And then, when I realize that these are unwanted projections from a patriarchal society, I spend a few minutes ruminating on all of the ways I wish I had responded! Such as: "I can feel your concern and care, but do you realize you're suggesting that I should be afraid, and that I shouldn't be out here? How do you think that feels to me? Would you make the same remark to a man?" and blah blah blah.
I was tempted to write about this in this piece, but it was already so long, I felt I couldn't do it justice! So thanks for giving me the opportunity!
Yes. Goodness gracious, how should someone respond internally, externally, to unbidden words to the effect of: hey, you’re by yourself and I’d like to interrupt you to let you to know that I see you as vulnerable to attack.
Or something along those lines.
Awful, awful.
Sooo much more in this. Thank you again!
And I hadn’t caught the gender dimension here; grateful you pointed this out!
Thank you for this. What a welcome alternative, on this particular day, to the otherwise ubiquitous "content" in this season suggesting New Habits, a New Diet, a New Organizational Method, etc. These are possibly beneficial endeavors, but so very often the way we write about and engage in them centers individualized Accomplishment (which easily comes with self-judgment and shame) and a capitalist sensibility of Optimizing Outcomes. This strikes me as spiritually opposite (to put it mildly!) from what you are describing.
One specific thing that struck me is that your first suggested practice:
"Take a chair, sit down right outside your house, and bear witness to the miracle of nightfall.
Pay attention to the emergence of wildlife you might not see or hear during the day."
lands a bit differently in my dense city surroundings. There certainly is some urban "wildlife", especially if you count free-roaming neighborhood cats along with the raccoons and occasional skunks, but our nightfall is always incomplete, with outdoor lighting and headlights ever-present. I'd be curious to hear reflections or practices from others readers who live with large amounts of light pollution.
Thank you for your thoughtful response, Colin! I agree that all of the 'shoulds' that emerge around this time of year can be harmful, and reinforce the capitalist paradigm, locating the problem in individuals rather than systems.
Regarding your question about urban living, yes absolutely, light pollution is so pervasive and, I believe, tragic. In fact, I just read a beautiful post about this very issue: https://substack.com/home/post/p-153862986?selection=e6c78bdf-d3d9-4aaf-b665-e977bc879bcc
In my own experience, I have still been able to appreciate nightfall when living in urban settings. Whether it is sitting on your front porch without turning on a light, or going to a park where you feel safe, or even just sitting beside (or in?) a tree on the street, you can still get many of the same benefits. When I lived in Denver, I discovered that coyotes frequented the bike path by the river. When I lived in Brooklyn, I found that there were parts of Prospect Park where I felt safe enough to sit in the twilight. It takes some exploration! And I encourage you to honor rather than dismiss urban wildlife such as the stray cats, raccoons, and skunks. When I sit outside my rural house, its not as if suddenly I see mountain lions, foxes and owls starting to party! Sometimes it's just a crow swooping overhead!
Thanks for bringing urban considerations into the discussion.
Thanks for that link!
FWIW my scare-quotes on "wildlife" weren't meant to dismiss urban wildlife in any substantive way (I agree they should be honored and appreciated!). That was more of a linguistic nod of recognition that those four-legged neighbors in particular are also non-wild in important ways, given how much their surroundings and behavior are influenced by human domination of the local ecosystem.
Powerful and so well written.
I love what you wrote Kris and the research you shared. I am a creature of the darkness. I just love the silence, the comfort, and how it brings me so much calmness. Thank you for talking about the power of the dark, community, and our inner world. Sandra
Thank you so much, Sandra. Your support means so much to me!
Thank you for your offerings Kris. This resonates so deeply and feels so relieving to see some of my own feelings finally expose themselves into words/thoughts. This addiction to light reminds me of our society's addiction to happiness.
I've led Solstice circles that focus on darkness instead of light, but have always had the tunnel vision of darkness = shadow, negative, heavy. Thank you for expanding my perspective.
I appreciate the balance of philosophical depth & light practicality you offer with your wisdom.
Thank you for sharing your voice.