To the Dark
In the early hours of the longest night of the year, I walked the network of trails near the ice arena. I’ve walked and run and biked those paths dozens of times but this evening wasn’t part of a training plan.
I walked into the little blinks of stars answering to the headlights moving down the freeway. I walked into the sagebrush catching the light reflected from the clouds and throwing it into the backs of my eyes.
After a quarter mile I turned off my headlamp. It felt like the right way to invite the winter solstice in.
I wanted to acknowledge the dark for what it is. By not trying to make it anything different. Using the light that’s already there – because there is always something just a bit brighter than its surroundings – but not adding any to the landscape.
Because soon a few seconds a day would be added come the next sunrise. The solstice being a pivot point for more light to come.
But right then, in that hour of walking, I didn’t want to make it anything other than what it was: the darkness.