Craving Darkness

Summary

The author reflects on the tranquility and introspective beauty of darkness, reminiscing about past experiences with nighttime and appreciating the current opportunity to live amidst natural darkness in Bali.

Abstract

The text is a personal reflection on the author's love for darkness, from childhood memories of nighttime solace to the recent experience of living in Bali, where the absence of light pollution allows for a deep connection with the night. The author nostalgically recalls lying under the stars, dancing in the dark, and the last time they saw the Milky Way at Lake Tahoe. After decades in light-polluted cities, the author finds solace in the 12-hour nights of Bali, where the lack of electric light and the early sleep habits of neighbors provide nearly 10 hours of uninterrupted darkness. This natural darkness is described as comforting, an embrace from the universe, and a catalyst for inner peace and reflection, contrasting sharply with the author's previous urban life. The text also includes quotes from Dean Koontz and George R.R. Martin, emphasizing the strength and wisdom that can be found in darkness, and concludes with the author's gratitude for the restorative power of this comforting dark.

Opinions

The author has a profound appreciation for the night, viewing it as a time that softens the world's harshness and expands the universe's possibilities.
Darkness is associated with freedom, peace, and a connection to nature, as exemplified by the author's teenage experiences of reciting poetry and dancing under the stars.
The author believes that the absence of electric light is a rare and exquisite experience in modern life, providing a sense of naturalness and tranquility that contrasts with the constant barrage of electronics.
The text suggests that prolonged exposure to artificial light has disconnected many people from the experience of true darkness and its benefits.
The author values the balance between light and dark, appreciating the transition times of dusk and dawn as much as the full darkness of night.
The quotes from literature included in the text reinforce the author's view that darkness can be a source of strength and deep wisdom.
The author expresses gratitude for the opportunity to experience extended periods of natural darkness, which they feel contributes to better sleep and a deeper sense of well-being.

Loving the sheltering night

“Even as a child, she had preferred night to day, had enjoyed sitting out in the yard after sunset, under the star-speckled sky listening to frogs and crickets. Darkness soothed. It softened the sharp edges of the world, toned down the too-harsh colors. With the coming of twilight, the sky seemed to recede; the universe expanded. The night was bigger than the day, and in its realm, life seemed to have more possibilities.”

― Dean Koontz, Midnight

When I was a teenager, I used to sneak out of the house into the backyard so I could lie on the grass and recite my poetry to the stars. Sometimes I would dance around barefoot, singing a soft song to the night. There was freedom in darkness.

When was the last time you saw the Milky Way?

It’s been decades for me. I lived in large cities for 45 years because of work, and there was too much light pollution to see the stars.

The last time I can remember seeing the Milky Way was every summer at Lake Tahoe from childhood until I graduated high school and left home. We had our sleeping bags on the porch and watched the stars until we fell asleep.

Since retiring a year and a half ago, I’ve lived in Asian countries that had lots of cloud cover. Not cold in winter, but no clear skies, either.

But it’s not just stars that matter, it’s the absence of electric light. Right now, on the edge of the jungle in Bali, even though I can’t see the stars for the clouds, I can experience deep night. It’s really dark here. Since I’m near the equator, the night is almost 12 hours long. There aren’t any street lights where I am, and the neighbors, not very close by, go to sleep pretty early, so that gives me almost 10 hours of pure darkness. It’s exquisite!

I like the time around dusk when the swifts give way to the bats, and I like the darkness before day, when there’s just a tiny hint of less-dark sky (the roosters are already crowing). But I love it when it’s completely dark. It’s such a gift to be in natural darkness. There’s a comforting quality to it. The air is still warm and it’s like an embrace, like the universe giving me a hug, since we can’t give hugs to each other right now.

The last time I experienced natural darkness was about 25 years ago. (Wow, that’s scary. I was a city girl for far too long.) A neighbor threw a slumber party in the woods, and I chose to sleep in a partially burnt out redwood stump; the burnt cave was just big enough for me to curl up in with a blanket. I felt like I was a cousin to a squirrel or a dormouse or a fox. There was no light at all, and the enclosed space was so calm and quiet; nothing to see, and the only sounds were little insect sounds and a few birds settling into their own nests. Before I drifted off, I felt a profound peace and oneness with nature. It was the best sleep I’d had in years.

“The strongest trees are rooted in the darkest places of the earth. …

Darkness will make you strong.”

— George R.R. Martin

Now, I’m so grateful to have this peaceful darkness available every night. It’s not merely a rich treat and then I have to return to the endless electronic barrage; no, it’s months of dark nights. I’m starting to get that endless, timeless feeling, like in the summers when I was a kid. It’s easy to fall asleep, and I awake before dawn with the chickens, deeply refreshed.

It’s not just the darkness, it’s the permission to rest. There’s no need to push past exhaustion, or rise, rattled and unwilling, to an unwelcome day. There’s space to breathe. There’s space to look within and there’s room to let peace expand outward.

“It is in the darkest zones … one finds the most luminous wisdom.” — Adam Gidwitz

I’m so grateful for this comforting dark.