The longest night of the year

We’ve experienced another winter solstice – the longest night of the year.  I realized this as I was walking out of my office at 5:30 on December 21st and then was surprised that it was still light outside as I viewed a strip of sunlight disappearing behind the lit office buildings.  Even though this is the longest night of the year, every time this year, in late December or January, I start to get excited for the light.  The days will become longer as the sun sets gradually later and later.  I don’t dislike the night, but I thrive in the sunlight.  I feel more energized and think that there’s more to my day, more time to do things and be with people.  That’s not really true, but it’s just how it feels to me.  (You would think my love of sunlight would make me a morning person, but it doesn’t.  I’m more of a mid-afternoon person.)

This year, I had never been more disappointed by the end of daylight’s savings time.  I started running in August, after work and on the weekends in nearby parks, but living in a city, I don’t feel comfortable running by myself in a park at night.  The end of daylight’s savings meant that I could no longer go the park by myself after work to catch the last of the sunlight.  Instead of reducing my running, I reached out to a new friend and asked her to be my running partner.  We began running one night a week and intend to run together two or more times a week as we return from our holidays.  What could have been a disappointing and limiting time turned into an opportunity to grow a friendship and increase my running performance, things that might not have happened were it not for the darkness.

When we experience darkness in our lives, in the form of depression, anxiety, stress, loss, grief, there is often a tendency to pull away from community – to hole ourselves up and not burden others with our pain.   While I’ve come to value solitude greatly in the past few months (which may be a future post), this is not the healthy solitude that I’m talking about.  What I’m describing is isolation that feeds the darkness by creating a fertile ground for all sorts of harmful lies (self-loathing, despair, self-pity, bitterness).  While there are many ways to defeat those lies, healthy community is powerful in bring light to this darkness.  When darkness falls, we need a loving, accepting, supportive, and challenging community of individuals who will sit with us, listen to us, remind of us truth, and pull us back into activities that restore our spirits.  But mostly, it’s the connection with another that is needed so badly.  I need that kind of light.  It’s what makes us human.  I feel so thankful to seek and find these connections all the time.  It’s not always deep soul-bearing.  Sometimes it’s just a laugh with a coworker or a 30 minute run with a friend.  I thrive off of these connections and the light that they bring me.  I’m thankful for darkness when it leads me to the light.