Light is Overrated
Whether it be Christian ethics or moth analogies or near death experiences, I think light is overrated. And this is not a knock on light, in general, but just the presumption about how much better light is than darkness. I enjoy light; I do, but I also know the pain and discomfort of light; not all things that are lit are good.
Every summer I used to be a staff member at this camp called Anytown. It was an invaluable experience. Approximately, a hundred teenagers getting emotional and challenged on issues of diversity. Powerful! Wow! To watch these students move from a place of comfort into discomfort into a newfound comfort. You can't beat that experience. In many ways these students moved from darkness into light, and I can tell you, it was not a smooth transition for many of them. They had been so adjusted to the darkness most of their lives that light (e.g., the good, the right, the open) hurt them. Their lives were surrounded by people who live in the dark, and people who wanted them to continue to live in the dark. Light, to them, was the antithesis of what felt safe, what felt right.
Some of these delegates had a terribly difficult time adjusting to life at home. The light offered them -- fear, loneliness, confusion, and isolation. Some loss friends and/or family. Some traded in their time in the light for the darkness that had become all too familiar. The light caused pain; the darkness was welcoming.
The other day I awoke in the middle of the night. I had to use the bathroom. I had no difficulty navigating through my house without any lights. I saw clearly. Once in the bathroom, I turned on the lights, and was immediately met with pain, scorching discomfort. I was angry! I mentally shouted to no one and everyone: "Why must light be so bright?!?" I was angry at the light because it temporarily disrupted my homeostasis. I thought, "If light is so good, why does it have to be so painful?"
Within minutes, though, things became clearer. I felt more awake because of the light; more alive. The light enabled me to see my daughter's toy that was left on the floor. And though I thought I could see "clearly" in the dark, I realized that darkness uses shadows to mask its truest intents. Darkness hides those pitfalls that only light can show.
Still, it's not just enough to say, move to the light. Light is better. Light, like a fine seasoned scotch, needs time.
When I reflect on all my experiences, I realize that light is overrated because we do not allow time for the adjustments. We expect those who have lived and loved in the dark to readily embrace light. But are we not human creatures? Are we not built with both fight and flight instincts? In order to get others to be in light, we must be willing to give some a gentler entry -- a night lamp, a tinted color, or the best of God's creation: a dimmer.
Every summer I used to be a staff member at this camp called Anytown. It was an invaluable experience. Approximately, a hundred teenagers getting emotional and challenged on issues of diversity. Powerful! Wow! To watch these students move from a place of comfort into discomfort into a newfound comfort. You can't beat that experience. In many ways these students moved from darkness into light, and I can tell you, it was not a smooth transition for many of them. They had been so adjusted to the darkness most of their lives that light (e.g., the good, the right, the open) hurt them. Their lives were surrounded by people who live in the dark, and people who wanted them to continue to live in the dark. Light, to them, was the antithesis of what felt safe, what felt right.
Some of these delegates had a terribly difficult time adjusting to life at home. The light offered them -- fear, loneliness, confusion, and isolation. Some loss friends and/or family. Some traded in their time in the light for the darkness that had become all too familiar. The light caused pain; the darkness was welcoming.
The other day I awoke in the middle of the night. I had to use the bathroom. I had no difficulty navigating through my house without any lights. I saw clearly. Once in the bathroom, I turned on the lights, and was immediately met with pain, scorching discomfort. I was angry! I mentally shouted to no one and everyone: "Why must light be so bright?!?" I was angry at the light because it temporarily disrupted my homeostasis. I thought, "If light is so good, why does it have to be so painful?"
Within minutes, though, things became clearer. I felt more awake because of the light; more alive. The light enabled me to see my daughter's toy that was left on the floor. And though I thought I could see "clearly" in the dark, I realized that darkness uses shadows to mask its truest intents. Darkness hides those pitfalls that only light can show.
Still, it's not just enough to say, move to the light. Light is better. Light, like a fine seasoned scotch, needs time.
When I reflect on all my experiences, I realize that light is overrated because we do not allow time for the adjustments. We expect those who have lived and loved in the dark to readily embrace light. But are we not human creatures? Are we not built with both fight and flight instincts? In order to get others to be in light, we must be willing to give some a gentler entry -- a night lamp, a tinted color, or the best of God's creation: a dimmer.
