It’s happening. Yes, Fall is definitely upon us, layering its dark blanket over us earlier in the evenings and lifting the corners to the day later and later in the mornings.
And we crave the light.
Perhaps we are anticipating the constricting cold and the weighty skies of winter overhead, but there is a marked difference in our energy levels, movement, and outlook when the precious sun makes its appearance here, in the northern climes.
Our attentions are attracted to the things we fear as a vigilant defense against their threat. Yet the impending cover does not mean light won’t exist. Our willingness to focus on its loss, rather than celebrate and enjoy what we have, is our reaction to what we have learned through time. The days get shorter, there’s less light for months to come. But there still is light, and the days will be longer once again, and soon enough, the seasons will bring forth the new. What can we do while we wait?
Make conscious choices to engage the light we do receive. Go outside for a walk at noon, arrange your workspace indoors to receive the natural light that does exist. Train your eyes to discern the patterns in nature that are uncovered with the fall of leaves; notice the outlines, vistas, shapes, and distances now available to see. Discover something. Notice and enjoy and appreciate – inquire. Learn to be attentive, walk in a worshipful stance in the world. There is much to be aware of, and thus to be thankful for.
Constantly gathering information for meaning-making; training ourselves to examine our gathering process (what we are willing to notice and give our attention to) gives us back the control we need to construct the meaning we seek in our lives. The desperation so rampant in our culture now is a direct result of flailing about to gather all information from all sources, without filtering its usefulness or its integrity, or its ability to satisfy the soul’s inquiry. We are living in survival mode – on information overload that is received at a speed that defies intake or calculated responses. What we do receive, we choke on. We thrash our way to the surface of each hour by narrowing our intake, leaving anything but survival out. In our clamoring, we only hear the noises louder than our own. We have become a society that begs its methods of escape to overtake us rather than allow us to wander in and pick up what we seek or need.
But restoration doesn’t come from escapism. Restoration is growth; the overcoming of loss. To grow, we must empower ourselves with calm and the comfort of intake at our level of need. Calm isn’t something you can grab and run with, like a take-out pizza. You need to open yourself to it – stop and let it come as you choose what to let in: music, sights, thoughts, experiences; relationships that foster you, not overwhelm you. Be willing to let thinking, wondering, noticing, and seeking be your entertainment for awhile; being present in your own moments, instead of trading your sense of self for distractions.
In short, redefine joy. Allow it to come to you in its varied forms, and choose to contribute to the joy you want to find around you. Service is always the finest and most effective antidote for sadness, grief, loss, and the alienation and fatigue of depression. Making a difference somewhere outside of ourselves makes a difference within, as well.
Don’t wait for the reappearance of the Spring before you are willing to believe it will come. Plant your literal and figurative bulbs now, anticipating the bright flowers that will nod toward you in the Spring. Be the light in someone else’s darkness, and that light will spill on you as well. Walk toward the darkness with your arms outstretched, bring the candle – bring the light.