Lights. They appear in the morning, remain with us through the day and vanish as night approaches. Then there are stars: dots at vast distances, gently prodding us to think about the things that last.
There’s a rhythm, and a pattern: philosophical distance at night, warming presence during the day. Natural light is dependable and predictable, as proper and trustworthy as an old man in tweed.
The industrial revolution fought the darkness away. The citizen of the modern world could read, work and socialise during the dark evening hours, no longer subject to the rhythm of nature.
Aurora borealis is nature’s way of refusing rigour. You thought light was supposed to be white with the occasional hint of red and pink? Not so fast, Johnny. Light should stand still, not dance across the sky like a delirious ballerina. Nature should not be like this.
Rhythms, patterns and habits all stem from laziness. Patterns can be obeyed or ignored; freedom is a choice made at the break of dawn, on the way to a meeting, when running to catch a train, and when you decide this just isn’t worth it – every day is an opportunity to either let habits stick or to break out, to shed the weight of tradition and roam freely under the flickering lights.