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Light and darkness are obviously opposites. One drives out the other, and when one is gone the other returns. But I feel there's more to it than that.
I've long thought that there are flavours of heat. Physics tells us (I fink) that heat, however conveyed (conduction, convection, radiation) is simply an increase in the vibratory rate of those insubstantial, indeterminate, not really there things we pitiful primitives call molecules. My human(ish) senses tell me that the heat from an electric heater, the heat from a gas flame, the heat from a wood fire are in some way different, and one is more pleasant than another. Why should that be? Heat is heat. Why should food heated in a microwave taste different from food heated in an oven, why should crumpets toasted before a fire be nicer (as long as they aren't burnt) than crumpets toasted in a toaster (ditto)? And yet, to me, they are. Maybe the molecules vibrate in a different rhythm, or maybe there is something about them we haven't yet discovered or measured that makes that subtle difference. Or maybe it's all psychological, which is not the same as saying it's not real.
And it's the same with light. Jan, being partially sighted, needs as much actual light as she can get, becomes infuriated when there isn't enough, shouts at the characters in films to TURN ON THE LIGHTS. We know a song about that. She needs the pure white light that drives away shadows, reaches into all the corners, makes everything as visible as possible. I find that light sterile, uncomfortable, cold. I like to have enough light to read by if I want to read, but I find much more pleasant the light that lives with shadows, dances with them, allows for a balance between light and shade. Human light. Human heat.
This may or may not be a metaphor for something, but I'm blowed if I can see what.
Oh, I don't know though. Maybe this is a metaphor for all kinds of extremes. Reason and faith, abundance and shortage, love and loneliness. It's normal to have a degree of both. Wanting more of one or less of the other than you have is also perfectly normal. Needing--needing--all of one and none of the other is a sign of something wrong.
in other news, a cat has been sick on the keyboard of the laptop. i've cleaned as much as i could, but obviously some keys are no longer functioning properly. The universe is trying to stop me using computers.
I've long thought that there are flavours of heat. Physics tells us (I fink) that heat, however conveyed (conduction, convection, radiation) is simply an increase in the vibratory rate of those insubstantial, indeterminate, not really there things we pitiful primitives call molecules. My human(ish) senses tell me that the heat from an electric heater, the heat from a gas flame, the heat from a wood fire are in some way different, and one is more pleasant than another. Why should that be? Heat is heat. Why should food heated in a microwave taste different from food heated in an oven, why should crumpets toasted before a fire be nicer (as long as they aren't burnt) than crumpets toasted in a toaster (ditto)? And yet, to me, they are. Maybe the molecules vibrate in a different rhythm, or maybe there is something about them we haven't yet discovered or measured that makes that subtle difference. Or maybe it's all psychological, which is not the same as saying it's not real.
And it's the same with light. Jan, being partially sighted, needs as much actual light as she can get, becomes infuriated when there isn't enough, shouts at the characters in films to TURN ON THE LIGHTS. We know a song about that. She needs the pure white light that drives away shadows, reaches into all the corners, makes everything as visible as possible. I find that light sterile, uncomfortable, cold. I like to have enough light to read by if I want to read, but I find much more pleasant the light that lives with shadows, dances with them, allows for a balance between light and shade. Human light. Human heat.
This may or may not be a metaphor for something, but I'm blowed if I can see what.
Oh, I don't know though. Maybe this is a metaphor for all kinds of extremes. Reason and faith, abundance and shortage, love and loneliness. It's normal to have a degree of both. Wanting more of one or less of the other than you have is also perfectly normal. Needing--needing--all of one and none of the other is a sign of something wrong.
in other news, a cat has been sick on the keyboard of the laptop. i've cleaned as much as i could, but obviously some keys are no longer functioning properly. The universe is trying to stop me using computers.