The months may be getting darker, and it could seem as though bleakness is all that awaits us, but it needn’t be so. The Dark Months series has been a way to sort through thoughts, ideas, emotions and reactions to the receding sun, a way to hasten its return perhaps. I hope you enjoy reading these mood essays, or word paintings.
The Dark Months – Fifteen
It’s a daily discipline, the donning of boots, warm coats, a mustard beanie hat, gloves; the prelude to a sun seeking perambulation.
Is it our search which recalls the sun from its hiding? Is this a game of hide and seek devised by nature to make us move? We’ll never know.
What is certain, to paraphrase a Yorkshire lass, is that there’s no such thing as bad weather, just poor clothing for the conditions. So, we wrap up warm.
Linear walks create a curious effect in the mind. There’s a sense that you are heading somewhere. Yet, once you turn back, the predestined path seems new. Perhaps that sense of novelty springs from looking back at things from a different vantage.
It’s a gift we can give ourselves, we humans, this difference in perspective. It’s not a gift equally distributed. Limited horizons abound, and endeavour in their dull darkness to dictate all that must be.
Which is why these forays into the light matter.
Because in beating the bounds, we define the breadth, scale and ambition of who we are.
It’s in these magical moments, where the sun suddenly breaks through and a monochrome world is kissed by colour, that we can be truly alive.