Why light looks better when the dark mixes in
Yesterday a miracle: sunshine on the Sunshine Coast and an afternoon off. A walk at Bonny Brooke, then to Roberts Creek pier for sunset where a magenta-purple fire bloomed across the sky. "It doesn't get more beautiful than this," I said to a gentleman walking his dogs past the mandala.
His response: "It was more beautiful five minutes ago."
Surprised, I kept walking. Was his observation poisoned by attachment to the past, or was it really less beautiful now? I worried he was right and I had missed the best part, that the sky would only get more dim from here on in. That thought made a tiny wee knot in my belly. I felt an uncomfortable gurgle, a tightening. I ignored it, kept walking.
In the past I probably would have mentally cursed the stranger for his word-seeds and pretended everything was cool. Yesterday though, I tried something different: I talked to the knot. I brought my attention to my stomach and stilled my mind. I asked the knot, "What purpose do you serve?" The knot started babbling. Up from my gut bubbled a fear that things really were better in the past. In the past I was younger, I made more money, I had a hot boyfriend, everything was new.
It was hard for me to hear its whining paranoia, its pain. That dark knot was in opposition to the cheerful me that said "what you focus on will grow; don't give negative thoughts room to breathe or they will take over." I didn't debate. Instead I practiced a great new skill I am learning called "listening."
A moment later a strange thing happened: the wee knot quieted itself then loosened. It appeared that this listening thing was a magical enzyme! A probiotic that allowed me to digest fear--I felt better. I looked up.
Something in the sky had changed. I not only felt the significance of being a human who comes to watch the day's light leave--who takes a moment to notice the cyclical changes in life--but now I did not miss the dying fluorescence. Light had mingled with its absence and the subtle tones echoed the place I was in. I, too, am a spectrum of fading then brightening hues. I harbour a sunset inside of me--a real place between light and dark.
I loved that sunset. As light was leaving, the sun sang a bittersweet goodbye.
Image from the shadowy film The Black Swan
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