[RANGE OF DARKNESS]

Two posts ago, I told you all of these featured photographs are from Alaska, except for the one featured in Range of Brightness (https://inthenovember.com/2023/11/21/range-of-brightness/). I had always wanted to go to Alaska and finally made it there in 2015. It is an incredibly beautiful place, both naturally and in the hardships that allow it to exist, an unending perseverance among the steadfastness of the mountains. That is the intentionality of Alaska, and it has always been that way.

The other photograph, the one not from Alaska, is from a place most important to me. I went there on a fall day, by indirect request. A friend of mine had moved west, to a place that holds it’s own beauty, and they missed the colorful leaves as they present themselves every autumn in this place that I reside. I sent a small version of that photograph west, and I like to think a part of me went with it. In taking that picture, I had the chance to walk across a bridge that I’d driven over hundreds of times, but never slow enough to take in the view. I like to do just that, take the time to stop and look. I do it, but I still feel that I do not do it enough, and I do not know if it can be done “enough.” Is there such a thing, as too much beauty, too much caring, too much light? I have said this before, but I like my darkness, and I do not search out a way to “fix” it because when I am away from it, I miss it so.

Where that leads me, is searching for a way to let in enough light without losing the darkness. But it is not really a balance because I do not think they are dependent on each other. I do not think the darkness ever really leaves, but rather just fades, as it is by definition “the absence of light.” No one refers to the absence of darkness because it is everywhere, until we choose it to not be.

This place with the colorful leaves, the changing seasons, the stinging cold and the long summer days, it is home for me. I have been other places, and I am willing to spend time in other places, but this place is home, and this is where my darkness is but I have found light here too. I think I am finding a better path for myself now, and although it is slow and far from certain, I am starting to feel better again. I am beginning to know that I can come back; I just had to start again. All of the answers, wherever they are, have not been found yet, but I know I have the strength to look for them. Maybe even create them.

I also know this: I want to have meaningful conversations along the way, with friends and family and strangers too. I want to live with purpose, even if every moment is not direct and contributory. I want it all to be real. I am going to spend some time with my darkness, and maybe I’ll learn something new. And I’m going to examine whether I can live this way, and still be a positive influence. If I have to let a little light in to do that, then the shadows might get just a bit shorter.