Light

Light is an.... interesting concept, to say the least.  We are creatures of light, are we not?  I do not mean in the metaphorical sense, where someone "of the Light" is a good person.  No, I mean this literally.  We evolved with eyes with which to see.  This, however, is not my point.

Light can be powerful, overbearing.  It can be subtle.  It can enhance our emotions... Take, for example, a walk down the street.  If the light is blindingly bright, say the rising sun is in your eyes, you tread more carefully.  If the light were just right, that warm, bright type of light brought on by mid morning or mid afternoon, you are more confident in your steps.  If, however, that light is darker, the kind of light where shadows breed, then... then we see the fear.  Someone passes you on the sidewalk in mid day, are we not more inclined to smile and nod at them?  Someone passes you on the sidewalk at midnight, we are more like to clutch our purses close, check our wallets, finger our keys, stiffen at their approach.

Granted, much of these emotions can be cast in many different lights (pun not intended), and we're taught that generalizations and stereotypes are bad.  Again, this is not my point.

Some of our most beautiful achievements are based on light.  When I say art, most people don't imagine a sonnet, or a musical piece, or even a good story.  No, they imagine a painting or a statue.  I've thought this curious.  Why are we such visual beings?  Simple heredity?  Or is there something more?

So what spurred this line of thought?  Something simple.  Last night, I emerged from the pitch black of the garage into a room flooded with moonlight.  I was physically awed by the sheer BEAUTY of it... the soft tones... the way everything was shrouded in light, yet not defined by it.  It was at this point that I realized something.

I am a creature of shadow... of moonlight.

Most folk are creatures of sunlight.  Of harsh definition.  I now reject this.  Moonlight is not light generated by the moon, but a reflection of sunlight.  The moon is the greatest thief in history, or perhaps the greatest negotiator, to get so much light for no cost.  Perhaps I look at this the wrong way, and the sun simply gives the moon its light.  That's probably a better way to look at it.  Again, I tangent off topic.

What is life?  Life is undefined, like love, like hate.  That which makes us human is not in our harsh definitions, but in our fluid-like emotional states, in our consciousness that melds understanding and flawed reasoning to understand the universe.  So much like my moonlight bathed dining room, undefined, yet knowable.  Shadowed, yet lit.

Made me want to dance with someone.  Made me want to profess something from a rooftop.  Made me wonder.

It was glorious.  A fine end to a flawed day.