Of the Dying Light

My mother is eighty-two years old. Her health is slipping a bit, but she still has her wits about her. She can still cuss a blue streak if need be. Once one of her friends said to her, “Sam, you are one of the most opinionated people I know!” to which my mother replied, “Honey, you should hear what I don’t say.” Just a few years ago, out of the blue, she said that she now understood her calling for the rest of her life… for however long she had left… and that was to “die creatively.” She wasn’t in the least morose about it. It was something that she looked forward to…she  was, in an odd way, excited about it.

The northern hemisphere is tilting away from the warmth of the sun. The dried leaves scuttle haphazardly down Government Street driven by a cold and alien wind. The days are getting shorter. The light is fading. Our bodies know this; our psyches as well. Depression spikes this time of the year. Deep in our DNA our bodies and souls know to prepare for death. This time of the year, a dress rehearsal for death, as it were. That is what Halloween is all about: Homage to the dying of the light. And yet we know also, deep in our DNA, to wait for the light again. Wait for life… and be creative about it. This is no passive waiting, but a visceral cue to the imagination.

We do not “rage against the dying of the light,” as Dylan Thomas suggests. Death is the mother of beauty, Wallace Stevens proclaims; death the mother, beauty the child, an iconic proposition as to the truth. We read in the seasons the cycle of death and birth; death and birth. Why not trust what we see, and name it holy; name it true. For in so doing we learn that there is nothing to fear; that the dying of the light is the pangs of birth for it’s return. So, in an odd way, (the life of faith is odd, yes?) let us live in hope… hope that engenders creativity and courage…. It is the chief human vocation to be creative, to make visible that which is beautiful and true… We do this for the sake of each other, our world, and perhaps for God; perhaps God, Godself needs reminding as well…. We do this not in spite of the dying of the light, but because of it. Bless the dying light, and pray for its return.