I am very affected by sunlight. I favor summer over winter, prefer tank tops to scarves and gloves, and love late spring and summer fruits like cherries and watermelon. And dark grey autumn days, cold that gets in your bones—not really to my liking. Yet, (strangely perhaps?) I find the early morning hours, before the sun has risen, inspiring, comforting, safe and warm, almost womb-like. It’s when I am most creative, when I feel most connected to the Divine, when I feel most inspired. And part of me feels somewhat sad when the first flecks of day appear, as if my special time is fading in the hot bright sun.
Confusing…which is why Hanif Abdurraqib’s poem I Was Told the Sunlight Was a Cure, really spoke to me. He explores the flimsy math of how daylight hours and nighttime hours can fool us…we can suffer in the sunshine and find comfort in darkness. Which, to me says that we can be surprised by what brings us comfort, what eases our soul, what brings a smile to our face.
I am reminded of one of my favorite lines from the 1988 film “Working Girl” when Cyn, played by Joan Cusak says Sometimes I sing and dance around the house in my underwear. Doesn’t make me Madonna. Never will. Well, I don’t agree with Cyn; I don’t think the issue is whether we are Madonna or not. OR, whether daylight is good or nighttime is good. I think it’s about tapping into ourselves and our needs—which change—and allowing ourselves to be inspired and comforted by what speaks to our soul.
It might be the wee hours of the morning. Or a cloudy day. Or Madonna. Or Lizzo. Or Leonard Bernstein.
Or maybe silence. Whatever soothes the soul, that is what should be honored.