“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:5
The word ‘light’ originates from the Greek word to ‘portray, show.’ As we move into December, the reality of shorter days and reduced natural light becomes more apparent. There is a reluctance to leave our homes as we are beckoned to stay indoors and shielded from the elements. As if by magic, we reach the veil of darkness with short bursts of light in between the dark mornings and early evenings. The trees, holding on to the last of their gloriously Autumnal coloured leaves, but the bareness is growing more apparent. Though it is this light that keeps us buoyant through the darker months. As we consider this darkness, it gives us the opportunity to also think about light in its many forms.
The artist Dan Flavin said that light itself was art, and as we head towards the winter, this artist’s statement resonates with me more deeply. The miracle of light becomes particularly transparent with the weather patterns during the Autumn months such as anticyclonic gloom, that creates a wrapped silence to the day covered by dull and cloudy weather. The search for intermittent light through the changing weather patterns and the joy it brings on Autumn days is treated as a wonder by us all. The light almost seems unexpected and it turns in a moment, the shadows it casts take us through the days that begin to layer with the quest for staying cosy and keeping our mood buoyant. There is a curiously magical quality to light, feeling like a message from the divine and day to day through the darkness a temperate presence against the cold.
As our thoughts begin to turn to the end of the year with winter and Christmas drawing towards us, light plays a crucial part in the season. The putting up of decorations in public spaces, the dotting of fairy lights and discussions on when to put up the Christmas tree are all centred around bringing light into our homes and shared spaces.
Though as we consider light in the literal sense of daylight, or perhaps the light of a fire that also warms our homes, there is maybe another more metaphorical form of light, which could be the one of conversation. In consideration of the role ChatGPT plays these days, it’s said that speaking with AI is immediate and responsive. However, there is a striking difference between AI conversations and in-person experience. When talking by fire or at the dining table it’s notable how these responses are slower, with a combination of conversation that’s not always marked by words.
Historically artists have conjured conversation through the cafe culture of cities. Artists have ritualistically gone to the same spot to be sometimes alone, to watch and to speak with others. Anthony Bourdain, in his travels often remarked on the importance of the spontaneity of sitting at a bar, taking in the moment and talking to a stranger. In our fast-paced, uncertain world where somehow we are pressured to broadcast every event, as some digital communication, the unmeasured time we spend simply being is not spoken of much. Though it would be hard-pressed for even the most cynical of us to dismiss the power of time spent with another, whether that person is a friend or stranger the exchange of energy and presence is a light itself. The miracle of Christmas, and the stress often associated with gift-giving and cooking, can be replaced with the thought that this all gives us a moment, regardless of our faith to be with people, to listen and to share a light we all hold with others.
Suppose we were to instead consider light, in its many forms and remove the ‘Hallmark’ pressure of what things ought to look like, and draw from within, the light that can be shared from our own soul with both friends and strangers alike. Somewhat like the spread of a lit fire, we can provide warmth by the simplest acknowledgements of each other.
Finding light, particularly with the winter drawing in, is perhaps best found through time spent together and building lifelong memories.
