Yesterday I stood in complete darkness, again. It’s not often that I experience being outside in total darkness. I think lots of people don’t. The first time I visited London I laughed at the night sky. ‘Why is it orange?’ It never seemed to get dark. I’ve lived in cities and towns and there’s always some kind of light; streetlights, lights flashing off emergency vehicles, illuminated shop fronts, headlights, or that strange ginger glow of a city.
To be in a place of total darkness seems unnatural, feels a little off, a little uncanny. I think of my ancestors, who mostly existed without lights as we know them now. Just the dull flickering of a flame, maybe a smattering of fires across the landscape. I imagine each as the central hub of activity, a source of light and warmth, and a focal point. The place here is so dark, that the stars appear as fireworks. If you look up, you might get the sensation that you’re falling, though I can’t work out why. Maybe you can almost sense the pull of the earth, the spinning, the motions of the universe; the ginormous movements you can’t comprehend.
I read once that our generation sees more images than ever before. It makes obvious sense but there may have been no need for this thought to cross your mind previously. There’s so much imagery; social media, news, books, film- we’re bombarded, constantly. It can be inspiring- all this imagery. Social media can be a place like that- inspiring art, beautiful nature, inspiring lifestyles. It can soon turn into toxic positivity, a glorification of capitalism, excess. A reminder that you don’t have it all. So then you can take a look at the other side of social media, perhaps you have no choice and it pops up when scrolling; violence, famine, grief, hatred, destruction. A reminder that you have it all. A constant flicker between longing and guilt.
I read once that our generation sees more images than ever before. And I forgot that images have meaning. If we’re seeing more images than ever before, what else is that doing to us? A bizarre expectation to manage such a constant flood of feelings. An image has context. The constant dopamine of scrolling, hit by sudden reminders of the death, corruption and violence. More despair, more anger, more comparisons, more hope (?), more empathy(?), more awareness. More desire to change the world. More overwhelm. (Oh, the privilege to be overwhelmed.)
The worst part is both represent different sides of humans, some are horrifying and some are sickly. Humans do this. And we, too are human. What a thought to reconcile. Both can make you feel angry and helpless. Both can make you feel determined and proactive.
We’re so afraid of the dark that we lie in bed illuminated by tiny screens. Only to see things darker than we feel.
What if my thoughts are louder, in the dark?
It’s not often we get a chance to exist in darkness, anymore. Many places I could stand outside and still be bathed in imagery. So, when you get the chance to stand in darkness, maybe you should take it. It’s so often described as ‘nothingness’. But it’s everything, just on pause. Everything on hold until the sun rises. A reminder to pause, yourself. Time to remain, time to rest or eat or simply be.
A space between the incessant imagery.
To be in a place of total darkness seems unnatural. Feels a little off, a little uncanny. Yet, isn’t it the most natural thing?