The Telling Life: Stories in the dark

We are just a few days from the Winter Solstice. If you live in the northern hemisphere, the world is dark. The sun may not rise until you are at work and it sets well before you leave. Even if you're self-employed, like me, what light there is has a peculiar slanting quality that lets you know it isn't quite comfortable visiting you.

I have always found these days difficult. Long before there was a formal definition of Seasonal Affective Disorder, I knew that dark calls to dark. I am more prone to depression, self-doubt and sorrow when there is less light. Part of me relishes these dark days; imagination flourishes in the dark but if I'm not careful, I drift into stasis and depression.

We all have stories about ourselves that help us navigate the world. For some, the story may be about family or achievement, for others it may be about injury or character. We use these stories to understand who we are and they influence the face we show to the world. My preferred story is about creativity, intelligence and kindness. I don't always live up to it, but it gives me something to aspire towards.

In the dark, other stories emerge.

In these short days and long nights I find it harder to hold onto my preferred story and drift towards the darker narratives. I begin to believe the parts of myself that tell me I am not a good storyteller. That no one wants to hear what I have to say anyway. That I may as well just get a desk job and let myself be swept away by the every day. That there is no point in striving for a creative life and that it would make no difference to anyone if I just gave up. That I am invisible and my kindness affects no one. Most of me knows these stories aren't true, but it's much harder to ignore them when the light wanes.

I am not asking for reassurance. Some of you don't struggle with this kind of darkness so it may read like a foreign language but I know some of you do. I am telling you this so you know you're not alone. The dark is powerful. It has things to teach us. But it is easy to forget that it is not everything in the world when we are in the midst of it.

Recent research suggests that human language and community evolved around the campfire as we told each other stories to keep out the dark. We can still do that. Instead of staying in my shrouded corner, if I remember that I am not alone I find the long nights are not as difficult. If I remember that I am one of many, clustered around a fire, listening and being listened to, then perhaps my darker stories are not true.

So, let me tell us both a story. Once upon a time we were born. There was light in the world with our births and we still carry that light with us, even when it feels like there is no light anymore. Our light shines out of our eyes and fingertips and the ends of our hair. We illuminate everyone we meet and when we tell our stories, be they joyful or somber, our light mingles with the light of everyone who hears us. When we listen to others our light sparkles and flies up into the sky to form the stars. This is how the first stars were made, by one person listening to the other and the sparks of their connection illuminate the dark to this day. We are part of the night sky and the bright day.

We are not alone in the dark. Tell. Listen. Shine.

(c)2015 Laura S. Packer