I’ve had today’s date, March 9th, saved in every imaginable calendar for months—the paper version on my desk, my google calendar across devices, my work calendar (which syncs with the google calendar), and even scribbled on a note on my laptop stand. It is circled, highlighted, boldface. The entire year-to-date has been a crescendo leading to this glorious day.
Why?
Because March 9th is when daylight savings swoops into rescue me (and millions like me) from seasonal affective disorder. Darkness recedes. The light lasts longer, stretching across each day with increasingly angelic beams of radiance, energizing my entire spirit. Thank God.
Winter’s charms fade fast for me. While I don’t deny there is something magical about the twinkle of the holidays and the calm of a snowy street—after a month or so, it gets old.
Despite knowing every season has its place, and perennially trying to convince myself that I can learn to better cherish the yearly opportunity for stillness, to savor the pause that the greyer months afford—still I’m always left counting the days until winter is over.
In Jan-Feb, find me sequestered in my cozy house: Pleading for the darkness to retreat; listening to summery bossa nova; reciting the date when we get to push the clocks back, like an incantation. And dreaming of the sun.
Perhaps it’s because I was born during the daytime, in late afternoon, on a Monday in July. A summer child. If you are a “woo-woo” type (as I admittedly am, at least partially), you may know that astrologers say the sun is your “light leader” if you are born when the sun is still high in the sky, meaning it is the primary heavenly body influencing your mood and behavior. I don’t know whether this is true or not but it certainly feels right.
I search for validation of my sun-starved disposition everywhere, even in the animal kingdom.
Although I detest reptiles, I’ve often made an exception for iguanas, feeling an affinity for them because, like me, they are quite content to lie on a rock in the sunshine for hours on end. Similarly, when I see a dog relishing their spot in a sunbeam cast through a window, smiling and rolling around on the floor, soaking up every inch of golden light, I think, “Same.” Find me some sunshine and I’ll wag my tail.
This is all to say, I’m sorry for being dormant here this winter. I can blame it on the winter blues, on the darkness that descends upon me every year, on the state of the world yadda yadda, but there’s not really a good excuse. Plenty of other folks can get it together to send out more frequent dispatches, despite the bleak austerity of a northeastern February. But now, with the sun on my side—my glorious light leader—I’m keen to join these high-functioning folks, to enter the world of the living again. To beat back the darkness and step into the light.
Who’s with me?
To welcome the longer days, here are a few meager offerings in celebration of this glorious daylights savings day (should we make this a national holiday? I think we should! Also, I think we should keep daylight savings year round for the love of all that is holy, but that’s a topic for another day).
The liberatory song Another Spring, by Nina Simone on the incredible album, Nina Simone and Piano, is a piece that, without fail, makes me cry every time I listen to it. The exact tear-jerker moment that makes me feel alive and reborn and sad and happy all at once is the revelatory chord change towards the end as she celebrates, you guessed it, another spring, after a long, difficult winter. It starts as an almost spoken-word lament and blossoms into a gospel of hope. Enjoy.
And finally, here are two very, very short poems (musings really) inspired by my weekly Torah study.
The first is inspired by Rabbi Arthur Green’s commentary on Parashat Terumah. This Torah portion features detailed, (dare I say tedious), instructions for building a tabernacle. Having been raised by mystics, Rabbi Green’s interpretation—which holds that we must treat our own hearts as the dwelling place for the divine, and that this sacred duty requires no intermediary, no physical structure—resonated with me deeply. The divine finds a home everywhere that welcomes it in. Hallelujah.
DWELL
They are
within me
within us
with
and
in
everything—
everyone—
trust
The second is inspired by Rabbi Sari Laufer’s commentary on Parashat Tetzaveh, in which she reminds us to spark and spread light, as we read this portion on the precipice of a new season, during the time when we begin to transition from the dimmer months into the splendor of spring. Rabbi Laufer writes: “We once stood in the darkness. Maybe we are standing there now—personally, communally. But there is light to be kindled, empathy to be shared. And we are commanded to light the light and make sure it keeps shining.”
BURN
To spark this fire
is a gift
To tend its flame
is our rite
To spread its light
is our call
We blaze together
or not at all
Until next time,
Amy
Daylight savings time has many enemies who want to prolong the darkness. Nevertheless, I share your April urgency. And so does March.
This brightened my day. Love a fellow SAD sufferer.