Andrea/Cara here, musing about light and dark, both physical and metaphorically. I just read a very thoughtful piece in the New York Times on the phenomena we call the Solstice (you can read it here.) Tomorrow is the Solstice—the word derives from Latin and means the sun stands still—and for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere it means the year’s longest night, while for those of you in the Southern Hemisphere it’s the opposite. The author of the opinion piece muses on the physics of the our tilted Earth and how its yearly journey around the Sun affects the angles and quality of light that touch each of us.
While many of us up north shudder at the thought of the longest night, he finds something poetic about this particular day. As his astronomy professor once explained to him, the Sun migrates from one point to another, pauses, then begins the reverse. And he really likes that idea of “pause” and sees it as a contemplative moment, rather than a fearful one—a chance to stop for a moment and reflect before things go back in motion.