I have light and noise all day. I like dark and quiet at either end of it.
Sometimes we say things without thinking and then realize how poignant they are.
It’s not surprising that I like dark and quiet in the morning and again at night. Most mornings I’m reluctant to have the sun rise. The darkness feels so calm and full of promise.
And having spent seventeen years rising before the Sun and shoving away from the dock in both my own boat or a coaches launch, I’m used to working hard and working through things in the dark. It’s a slow build in intensity as well as a deep focus on the task at hand as the early morning hours tick by. The sunrise/sun rising feels like a well earned lightening of the load.
And also unsurprisingly having three small children who are energetic and loud and all the things kids should be, quiet is rare in the chaos of the day. So in the evening, when they’re all asleep, a quiet sit in the dark feels like the best form or relief.
This all came about because Kady asked me why I like sitting in the dark. I go into our living room in the evening and turn all but one of the lights off and sit in an arm chair. It’s a chance to reflect. To collect my thoughts. To set goals for the next day. And to slow down.
Maybe it’s not that revelatory but it felt worth noting. Worth knowing. Where and how we collect ourselves for the day ahead is important. And how we reflect on the day that’s past is equally so.
