I’m one of those dark type of people. Some like to do things in the light, but others like me, prefer the dark.
I think that the glaring light of reality is way too bright for the likes of me. I would rather reside in the shadows, or perhaps in the darkened areas of my imagination. I do, however, enjoy the sunlight on a warm summer day, but it is always the darkness that draws me home.
Doing things in the middle of the day takes away the mystery of the darkness. Things lose their charm and fascination, being able to see each and every detail in crystal sharpness. There is no place for shadows in the middle of the day. No room to hide, and no way to escape without detection.
The darkness is easily obtained at night. Turn off any light, and the darkness creeps in and around the corners of the imagination. A single light in the distance throws shadows, stronger when closer, but more diffuse when farther away. The lights seem to dim as the night grows older. You’d think that dark was dark, but when the final shadows blend into the night, there is no hope left in sight, with even the shadows fusing into the darkness.
One is never entirely sure, what lies in the darkness. Familiar objects and known distances seem to blur in one’s memory, as if they become fluid in the ensuing nothingness.
The Winter months possess the richest darkness. The Summer months shoulder the last rays of Nordic Sunlight, making Summer nights never as dark as those in the Winter. Summer months tend to draw people out to enjoy the lightness of the evenings. They stretch over 11pm in late June through July, when the Scandinavian sun never is far below the Western horizon.
The Winter months are diametrically opposed to each other. The Winter months draw one indoors, seeking the lighter places and warmer impulses. The outside darkness is left to itself, shivering without its woolen blankets, even hiding the fact that snow might be on the way, making things yet even colder again. The stars shine brightly in the heavens. Orion the Hunter and his Big Dog inhabit the Southern Skies throughout the Winter months, marking their way in the darkness.
I am attracted to the Winter Months as well. No time is the Milky Way brighter, nor are the evening planets more inviting, than when they are greeted in the cold evenings of the Danish Winter. The nights are long and the days are short, evoking memories of the warmer, brighter Summer, seemingly light years away. No one seems to hail the advent of Winter. Most would rather send it on its way, wishing never to experience it again. If only the Summer would gain more power, if only the Winter would diminish in strength. if only….
Wishful thinking is just that, wishful. We all know what the reality of the situation is, and accept it for that. If we wanted to attain more Summer and less Winter, than we should move ourselves southwards, which of course denies our identities of who we are, and where we come from.
I am only speaking for myself, not being a native of this latitude. My coordinates lie farther to the South, approximating the countries of the Mediterranean. My Nordic roots are non-existent, though my ancestors did come from Russia once upon a time. My dark ways appeared when I moved to Denmark, having left the lighter climes of California for only my memory to reside in. It might remember the California Summers, being long, hot and rain-less, but the newer memories tend to erase the older ones. My newer reality tends to the darker side of life, the darker climes of Scandinavia.
In the Winter, I am of the darkness, as it is harder to come by in the Summer months. I can surround myself completely in the darkened rooms, and move about in the coldest Winter winds. Although I shiver and abhor the extreme cold, it is still another characteristic of the wondrous dark, Winter months.
Taking the bitter with the sweet, and the darkness with the light.
The darkness is that which calls out to me.
Meet me in the darkness…