Angle of Light

Sunlight reached the tops of the trees this morning, glancing off the straight brick walls of the tallest buildings and into my open window.  It broke into a hundred spectacular shards of light, each divided into the colors of the rainbow, spangled, moving; the pieces of glass hanging from the curtain rod had taken the substance of illumination and broke it, tamed the waves into a secret spectrum.  Spheres of dissected sunlight swung around my room, each containing the the brilliant colors of light recognized by the human eye that are all around us, but that we seldom see. When the colors blend together, light appears white.  A moon beam, a sun ray.

Before dawn, all is grey.  It takes light to produce color, so my question is, are we a gray world, made of monotone bleakness changed only by the magic of light reflected from objects?  Are we truly living in a black and white film?  What reason for color, then?

There isn't any reason, just existence; the way it is, full of wonder and the quiet joy of witnessing a spray from the hose causing an arc of color in the sun.  Light brings us a bird of incandescence, flashing a blue so concentrated that he is the messenger of a faraway universe, where cerulean fires explode, escape, and grow wings.  We see the heartbeat of a ruby-throated rose, the inflamed velvet petals which spiral open and pull you into the volcano's rushing pulse.  The luminous, undulating Aurora Borealis displays a charged, jade green light as it hangs in the night sky, it's lavish, lazy movement mimicking the billowing surges of tall summer field grass, verdant and roiling under a warm wind.

But this color business, how does it work?  A chameleon will imitate a complex design of hues in minutes; species of octopods and cuttlefish can match a pattern in seconds.  So in dull light of no color, would these animals become as grey as the surrounding environment until the sun arose to turn on the show?  It makes you wonder what color the layers of earth are below each shovelful, until awoken by the sun or the lights of humankind.  Nothing, the color of cold rock and soil is nothing, until you reach the solid, molten alloy of iron and nickel that is the core of our planet for it is as hot as the surface of the sun, over 5000 degrees, and to a lesser amount, the magma surrounding it.  You dig down into the planet, the temperature rises 150 degrees each mile you drill; red hot rock produces an amazing amount of geo-thermal heat anywhere you go on earth.

The wrapped in paper-waxen fragrance that hits when you open a fresh pack of crayons announces the range of colors you have at your disposal to illustrate and describe your small kingdom.  The names have changed, not always for the better--Asparagus?--but the the sense of power bestowed upon you is tantamount to owning your decisions on paper.  The colors in an 8 pack are workable, basic, and can teach how to blend in order to get a bigger range.  There are 16, 24, 48, and 64 packs that expand the choices and lend to more sophisticated depths; however, and this may sound idiotic, in the dark, they are all the same color.  It runs away, as ethereal as a phantasm, a wisp, a magic trick by the cosmos.

But for sleep, the brain benefits from the absence of light, for even the green digital numbers of the alarm clock signal wakefulness.  Any light whatsoever is affecting our sleep patterns, with blue light being the most disruptive to melatonin cycles.  Wearing amber lens after sundown while using electronic devices suppresses blue light, allegedly increasing the depth of sleep.  Checking the store, there is a whole culture of orange light, including the glasses, light bulbs, and books.  Amber lenses sharpen up your night vision while driving; I'll let you know.

But for now, the temperature has dropped into the teens; blankets and comforters are spread, the darkness bids me to turn in.  Latch the doors, outen the light.  Climb into solace and repair for the daylife that occurred, let yourself follow the longer winter nights into slumber.  Soon enough you will stir, now it is time for unfettered dreams to run through fields of thought, fields of yielding to the night.   Sleep safe, sleep well.