I study natural light more than any other aspect of nature. I watch the first rays of light as the velvet curtain of night sky lifts.
I watch the long rays of morning’s first rays illuminate the trees in its path. As the sun rises in the sky, the brilliance of noon causes everything in its path to seem flat, one dimensional. Later in the day, clouds that partially obscure the sunlight separate its rays in a light show tribute to an aurora borealis. The light changes in the late afternoon. It accentuates the angles of that which it strikes; it folds in on itself making edges softer. As evening light takes the baton from daylight, corners fade into nothing. Details are lost until flashlights, headlights, streetlights chase away the darkness. In the country, ambient lights from the cities rise up in glowing orbs. Moonlight casts a warm, yellow light. Starlight sheds blue light, enough to find your way home.
The first glimpse I had of each my children was curtesy of light. Light is not accessible to the the blind. Yet, even the blind walk in its wake. In Light in My Darkness, Helen Keller wrote, “And I believe that God is in me as the sun is in the color and fragrance of the flower, the Light in my darkness, the Voice in my silence.”
Light is a multi-faceted character. It is able to bend, flatten, illuminate and reflect. Light can be caught, it can be cast, it can be refracted. Light is able to chase away fear, illuminate truth and deliver hope where there is none. Our ability to sustain life on this planet requires light. We cling to four words, four simple words, “Let there be light.”