At the end of October there was a night when I went out to get the mail. When I got to the edge of the street I saw giant, translucent figures walking around the neighborhood. They were much taller than the figure in this drawing. They could easily step over houses, because the houses didn't even reach their knees. At first seeing them made me nervous but then I got the feeling that they weren't there to cause harm. They were just keeping an eye on things-- making sure everything was in place and we were doing okay. I wrote about it briefly in a journal I keep and then went on with my evening.
I spent a lot of time over the next few months thinking about stars and the symbolism of having these little strings of light hung in the sky, almost like reminders that even in the dark we were cared for. It seemed like an important thing to remember-- that points of light existed in the dark whether we could see them or not.
The last few weeks have been hard for me. It could be the holidays, or that it's winter, or a number of other things but I've been feeling waves of despair. At certain times it would feel like thick clouds had come and blotted out the (figurative) sun and stars and I began to wonder if they ever existed at all. Maybe I had only imagined them. Maybe there was never really hope or light after all.
Except I knew that wasn't the case. I had seen the stars.
During one of those oscillations between feeling like there was no hope and remembering that the world is full of magic and beauty in hundreds of over-looked forms, this image came to my mind. I remembered the tall figures walking around the houses and saw them now as beings hanging a figurative string of lights overhead so that when the dark came in we could be reminded that the dark wasn't the only thing that existed. Like Christmas lights, I thought, reminding us that even in the cold winter there was still warmth somewhere.
Sometimes we need a few extra lights so that we can remember that there is more to the world than darkness.