Your point about light representing the “good guys” and references to darkness as “evil” reminded me of the glorious reopening of Notre Dame. I’d seen it in person 25 years ago. I’d even climbed up the stairs to the gargoyles and stood looking out as the day faded and the City of Lights began to sparkle.
I watched the reopening with heightened emotions, which surprised me since it’s not my national treasure. However, I was so moved by the brightness of the restored structure: it seemed to glow. Also, the rebuilding and restoration are remarkable achievements. The commitment to this historical, religious structure inspired me.
And then I watched as the Parisians and world leaders assembled within the building for the “opening ceremonies.” And row after row of folks were filmed coming in, taking their assigned seats, chatting with each other. And it struck me: I saw no faces of color. Just row after row of white folks. In fact, it continued to be parades of the same until the firefighters in their gear strode in. These saviors of not only the structural bones of the cathedral but of so many artistic and religious artifacts were among the only dark skinned souls in attendance.
This can’t be true of Paris today. And it’s not the case with the leaders of countries around the world, either. And the obvious racial divide diminished the celebration for me. Can’t imagine how black citizens of France felt: mixed sense of awe and exclusion?
Perhaps I noticed because my own immediate family is racially diverse. Faces of different tones are normal for me. Anything else feels a bit “off.”
You were recalling holding your son in the comfort of night. I can recall changing the diaper of one our son’s earliest playmates. Upon seeing her pale tummy, my first thought was that she was so lacking in color that she might be ill. Then logic snapped in, smiled, and remembered she was white…just a white child.
So One Good Thing is that you reminded me of the connection between the normalcy of the solstices and the beauty of diversity.
Oh, and how much I like turning on small lights in dark rooms. I used to light candles this time of year. Now I have some tiny turn on lights - not to brighten the room - but to bring coziness by combining the 5 pm darkness with flickers of light. It’s like magic. Bringing two together creates comfort.
Oh my goodness, Maryli. I hadn't watched the coverage of the Notre Dame reopening. Yours is the only in-depth reporting I have seen, other than the despicable recasting of a photo of T**** purloining a photo of First Lady Jill Biden smiling at him as a backdrop for an ad for his perfume. But, oh my, the first (only?) faces of color to appear in the building were the dark-skinned firefighters who saved it from absolute ruin??? Well. That. Is. Something.
Something shameful.
I love your image of tiny lights to flicker in darkened rooms this time of year. Something to bring comfort. I could never use actual candles in my house, because there is a certain little cat who would surely get us all into trouble with a lighted flame. But little battery-operated tea lights could do the trick. Or, right now, just the lighted Christmas tree does that for our living room. So pretty.
Interesting. As I read the essay about dark I heard in the background the Christmas hymn "We three Kings..." about emissaries who followed a star in a dark sky. Dark can be interpreted as a phenomenon that places emphasis on the contrast it provides to worthy things. "On a dark and starry night....." Best Chuck Verrill
True. You cannot see the stars unless the night is dark. In so many parts of the world people can no longer view the night sky because there is too much artificial light getting in the way. I think that is a real loss. Even here in Brunswick, I cannot see many stars from my yard. In my very quiet neighborhood, I have five (five!) streetlights visible from my house! If there is anything worthy to see up there, I am pretty much missing the show!
Your point about light representing the “good guys” and references to darkness as “evil” reminded me of the glorious reopening of Notre Dame. I’d seen it in person 25 years ago. I’d even climbed up the stairs to the gargoyles and stood looking out as the day faded and the City of Lights began to sparkle.
I watched the reopening with heightened emotions, which surprised me since it’s not my national treasure. However, I was so moved by the brightness of the restored structure: it seemed to glow. Also, the rebuilding and restoration are remarkable achievements. The commitment to this historical, religious structure inspired me.
And then I watched as the Parisians and world leaders assembled within the building for the “opening ceremonies.” And row after row of folks were filmed coming in, taking their assigned seats, chatting with each other. And it struck me: I saw no faces of color. Just row after row of white folks. In fact, it continued to be parades of the same until the firefighters in their gear strode in. These saviors of not only the structural bones of the cathedral but of so many artistic and religious artifacts were among the only dark skinned souls in attendance.
This can’t be true of Paris today. And it’s not the case with the leaders of countries around the world, either. And the obvious racial divide diminished the celebration for me. Can’t imagine how black citizens of France felt: mixed sense of awe and exclusion?
Perhaps I noticed because my own immediate family is racially diverse. Faces of different tones are normal for me. Anything else feels a bit “off.”
You were recalling holding your son in the comfort of night. I can recall changing the diaper of one our son’s earliest playmates. Upon seeing her pale tummy, my first thought was that she was so lacking in color that she might be ill. Then logic snapped in, smiled, and remembered she was white…just a white child.
So One Good Thing is that you reminded me of the connection between the normalcy of the solstices and the beauty of diversity.
Oh, and how much I like turning on small lights in dark rooms. I used to light candles this time of year. Now I have some tiny turn on lights - not to brighten the room - but to bring coziness by combining the 5 pm darkness with flickers of light. It’s like magic. Bringing two together creates comfort.
Thanks, Sylvie.
Oh my goodness, Maryli. I hadn't watched the coverage of the Notre Dame reopening. Yours is the only in-depth reporting I have seen, other than the despicable recasting of a photo of T**** purloining a photo of First Lady Jill Biden smiling at him as a backdrop for an ad for his perfume. But, oh my, the first (only?) faces of color to appear in the building were the dark-skinned firefighters who saved it from absolute ruin??? Well. That. Is. Something.
Something shameful.
I love your image of tiny lights to flicker in darkened rooms this time of year. Something to bring comfort. I could never use actual candles in my house, because there is a certain little cat who would surely get us all into trouble with a lighted flame. But little battery-operated tea lights could do the trick. Or, right now, just the lighted Christmas tree does that for our living room. So pretty.
Interesting. As I read the essay about dark I heard in the background the Christmas hymn "We three Kings..." about emissaries who followed a star in a dark sky. Dark can be interpreted as a phenomenon that places emphasis on the contrast it provides to worthy things. "On a dark and starry night....." Best Chuck Verrill
True. You cannot see the stars unless the night is dark. In so many parts of the world people can no longer view the night sky because there is too much artificial light getting in the way. I think that is a real loss. Even here in Brunswick, I cannot see many stars from my yard. In my very quiet neighborhood, I have five (five!) streetlights visible from my house! If there is anything worthy to see up there, I am pretty much missing the show!