Week 43: Lights

I thought I wouldn’t write another blog post until after Christmas, but I can’t help myself. Yes, there are a gazillion other things I ought to be doing between work, family, and holiday preparations. But I like writing and hope you don’t mind reading.

We had our first snow storm followed by a clear cold snap, which means sunny blue skies and sparkling snow. I am trying again to actually get some regular exercise, after measuring the damage caused by early-darkness-induced lazy commuting and Thanksgiving gluttony. I went cross country skiing in our town forest and local park yesterday morning and this morning. It makes me so happy! I don’t know that it makes me more focused or productive afterwards like it is supposed to, and I don’t know why it is so hard to drag myself outside in the first place, but I’m glad I did.

There were cool ice formations on the branches at the park this morning:

But rather than writing about sunshine sparkling on snow, what I really intend to write about today is lights shining in the darkness. It is that time of year when the sun sets by 4:30 and it is full dark before 5:00 (making me less inclined to bike or walk to the train station on my way home). I tend to get depressed by the cold and lack of sunlight (at least until I can ski!). But then there are lights to compensate, like the ones on the Longfellow bridge which I pass when I do walk to the station from work:

And the ones that are illuminating our town common (that I also pass on my way home and are outside the church where we have our holiday concerts):

We just had our first of two Reading Community Singers holiday concerts last night, and the man who was Santa talked about the festive lights and the magic of the season. And our “Light One Candle” Chanukah song is about being lights of hope, decency and peace in a dark world.

The people I sing with are shining lights. It strikes me as wonderful that so many of us come together and put in so much effort just to create music and to share the joy of it with others. From our soft-shoe Rudolph, to our kazoo-wielding basses, to the majestic chords and brass of the Hallelujah chorus, to gospel music and Vaughn Williams and everything in between, it is all undertaken for no loftier reason than because we love to make music together and for no more self-advancing purpose than to spread joy. People put in a tremendous amount of volunteer effort behind the scenes to make this happen. I’m so glad they do.

I guess my point is that light and magic usually don’t just happen. They are intentionally generated by people who choose to devote their time and attention to it, and who create the conditions for it to shine. It is so easy to take that light for granted, but we should not. We should do our part. It gives a dark world color and sparkle and knits together our community.

The hermit part of me might yearn to slip away from the lights and bustle to breathe the crisp night air and gaze at the silent moon on the snow. That’s good, too. I need a life with space for both. I suspect we all do.

May your evenings be filled with whatever light calls to you in this season of short days and long nights. In case this is my last post for the year, here is wishing you a New Year filled with plenty of light, joy, peace, and music.