true light from true light
The snow has been the primary light source in our apartment this past week. It reflects clean, cool light into the room, curbing my impulse to switch on all the lamps. All morning, I work in its diffuse glow, paying no attention to the flagging sunlight as the day wears on, continuing to read as the room dims and greys.
The snowlight is deceptive. Radiance is the wrong word for it—too warm, too firelike. Instead, it’s a thin grey-blue light, like a standoffish cat. Like the moon. It brightens but doesn’t blaze. Winterlight.
Generally, I resent my inability to persevere, to rally my weary spirits, to carry an extra measure of cheer. Why must I rely on the sun? I should be able to summon joy! vigor! I should be tough! I shouldn’t be so pitifully dependent.
Except maybe it makes me more aware of my dependence on the Light from True Light. I need light. I’m not independent, not able to rally, summon, toughen up. I am utterly dependent on the light. I cling to the light to live.
(This post is one in a November series for NaBloPoMo, National Blog Posting Month. You can find the rest here!)