“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:5
In the depths of winter, those long heavy grey days sometimes make me feel like I long for nightfall. When the sky is deeply dark, its backdrop creates a magical veil over the day. There is the opportunity to light the fire and watch its dancing flames, to set the table with candle light and shut away the grey clouds and rain which fill most of the weather we experience in Britain. On those grey days there is the hope of Spring. We grow hopeful as February passes, and look forward to enjoying new shoots of life that don’t seem so far away. In ancient Inca tradition, they believed that gold was the sweat of the sun, and that the gold itself held no monetary value, but rather a spiritual value for which they worshipped the sun. The sentiment of valuing the light cast is particularly enlivened within us all as the summer sets in. We get to really appreciate the sun’s ‘sweat’ as it reveals new and longer light filled days.
After weeks of being within the light of summer, this light with its warmth gives a slowness to the days. I started to understand how, in warmer climes, life is often slower, governed by the way the temperature sets the day. This way of life allows for time to daydream and just enjoy the moment, rather than relying on structured timetabling. It is as if the sun gives us permission to rest. This sense of rest makes me think of a children’s story about a mouse that annoyed his fellow mice by daydreaming the summer away, instead of gathering for the winter. But when winter came and the earth was deep with snow, his fellow mice rejoiced at the colour and light he had stored, and it came to be that his daydreaming kept them all in joy through the long winter months.
When summer beckons and begins, there is a new magic. We are restored by the light and warmth of the sun’s rays. That feeling of leaving layers behind and experiencing a childlike freedom gives us a sense of what it must be like for an animal coming out of hibernation. The day and night extend, framing life for time outside. The warmth radiates, drawing us to eat outside if we can. We head to our parks for picnics and gardens and outdoor kitchens, whether these are formalised or through the use of a homespun barbecue, where the ritual of cooking takes a timelessness to it, as we enjoy the time to bask outdoors. A freeformness, brought about by the sunshine, pervades and allows for playfulness. We can now merge with nature and not feel so restrained by the table framed by four walls, but rather the broader and wider skies which surround us all.
Perhaps we can learn from wild bees, who actively receive direct sunlight and transform their movements and dances in response. This feeling of light which helps them also marries with the swaying of mood and endless sense of freedom and possibility. I enjoy walking in the early morning as the sun is just beginning to rise and later in the evening as sunset beckons. The best of the light, without the scorching rays, and its twinkle and vibrancy surrounds those walks. It’s almost like new music has filled the air, bringing with it new possibilities and ways of thinking.
In this new light which brings colour to all of us, allowing the time to dawdle and chat, we can take in the playfulness that the sun provides us in its wake, creating a sense of rebelliousness and carefreeness to our days. Though as we begin to reach midsummer, which marks not only the longest day, but a midpoint in the year, autumn starts to seem not that distant. It’s perhaps the natural state of our humanity, that we always seek out the opposite or pine for the thing that we feel missing. So as I watched the sun’s rays flicker through the leaves one morning, making what seemed like nature’s own fairy lights, I wished to absorb this memory for the long dark nights of winter that will inevitably come and be like that mouse that holds the light within myself for winter days. So perhaps, as we enjoy and take in the sun’s rays, within the undulating form of British summer time, we can draw on the feelings of this lightness, and take it into our winter inward gaze as we gather inside and stare at the dancing flames of our woodburner.