Absolute darkness is hard to come by in this modern world. Light leaks through nighttime windows from streetlights, headlights, searchlights, the moon, lightning storms and even fireworks on the occasional holiday. Electric clocks, power strips, TV and stereo power lamps come to life in a ghostly glow once the sun has gone down. For some such lights are a nuisance, for others these dim reminders of day are insufficient. There are those who are uncomfortable in the dark and those for whom the realm of sleep cannot be deep black enough. Which are you?
I believe, and say “believe” because I cannot remember for sure, that as a boy I favored the company of a night light. Things that go bump in the dark might have been, at that time in my life more manageable when seen rather than merely heard. Now I find that the best sort of night is one in which I can find nothing; no shapes, no glimmer, no semblance of the living world. Perhaps the days are now so full of goings on that the only way to achieve true respite is in the nothingness of absolute black. Odd because nothingness is a constant topic of internal dialogue that I bandy about in the face of the ceaseless onslaught of is-ness that has become the definition of this modern life.
Fear of heights, fear of snakes, fear of the dark, fear of anything, all, in my opinion, are the children of the fear of death; fear of that which we cannot avoid no matter how we twist and turn. I like the dark, I actually like snakes, but I have a dizzying visceral breakdown when faced with heights. That last issue must be the reason I learned to skydive. Interestingly when one falls from umpteen thousand feet the prep time between plane and landing allows for some free will and planning. As I write this I’m happy to say, though clearly it needn’t be said since here I am, that the process has been survivable. Its been amazing actually. I like-ish facing fears; it’s fascinating, life-affirming and potentially boundary, if not leg breaking. But what if I were afraid of something as unavoidable as the dark.
A power outage leads the prepared household to a closet stocked with flashlights and candles, perhaps even a battery powered radio. For the well-to-do who’ve prepared for The Purge, it may even lead to a generator or a full-on panic room. I like a good power outage, except for the havoc it may wreak on whatever frozen food I’m hoarding at the time in my ancient fridge. I even have a few decent flashlights and a couple candles hidden away just in case. I still have kids at the house, so I have to be ready to turn whatever happens into an adventure that isn’t entirely lived out in abject what-the-fuck blackness.
But back to night lights for a sec. They do serve a purpose, for some, for a time. They may alleviate fear; affording calm to those needing a tinge of day in their night. The also can make it possible for a nearly comatose person to reach the fridge for that super unnecessary midnight snack, without breaking a toe. Not my thing, but to each his or her own. Have your night lights if you will, and may they bring peace and restful sleep. I’ll be the one dancing with my vertigo, dizzy and sweating on the ladder in broad daylight cleaning a gutter, hoping I’m able to make it back to earth alive.