signalling endings, signalling beginnings

dusk

Dusk is here.

It’s a strange time. The transition between day and night.

Day and night are clearly marked in our routine of existence.  Each of us associates certain activities with day and night – everything has a place in one or both. Day is when we get up, for example, as many of us work in the day.  Some of us though work at night, so day is when we sleep and everything is reversed.

Dusk is different though.  I can’t think of something I associate with dusk.

It seems solely to exist to mark the transition from day to night.  The fading light a reminder that day is ending and night is beginning.

Signalling endings. Signalling beginnings.

Maybe there is a place for this signalling elsewhere in our lives?
Maybe then change wouldn’t be so scary?
Maybe the signalling could be seen as a celebration of a new beginning?
The celebration of a time passing and a chance to enjoy what that time gave?

Maybe every transition and change programme needs dusk?

 

drawing life’s curtains

Have you ever noticed that dusk brings a particular behaviour for a short period?

During the day, we exist in our offices or our houses, with curtains wide open, blinds pulled up, shutters flung back. The light inside and outside in balance somehow, we seem open to the notion that people might look in, might see us. And that’s ok. There’s a form of equilibrium. Equality of visibility in this balanced light.

Then dusk arrives. We turn on lights inside our homes and offices. But we leave curtains and blinds wide open. The result is the light is stronger inside than outside and people can see in. See us more clearly. We are silhouetted in the artificial lights. More visible. More exposed. So people look, sometimes stare.

Then we draw the curtains, drop the blinds, turn the light off maybe. In essence we hide. Perhaps too exposed now, we retreat, away from prying eyes. And so it stays, until dawn, when we throw open the window ‘shields’ and allow natural light to flood in, safe in the knowledge that we can be seen again, but not clearly seen, not highlighted, not in the spotlight.

And so the pattern repeats.

Maybe it’s like that in life?

Happy to be seen when we blend in, when the light of others equates to our own light? Maybe though when we are in the spotlight, highlighted, more visible, we seek to hide? We set out to draw a veil over ourselves, to become more private, more introverted? We quite literally pull down the shutters.

Instead.
Shine your light.
Hold lightly the sight of others in the soft light.