(Quarantine Essay #77)

I don’t remember ever being afraid of the dark. Perhaps that’s why I tolerate with equanimity winter, moonless nights, ignorance, and insomnia. Poet David Whyte called it “the sweet darkness” in his poem of the same name, which includes the verse “The night will give you a horizon / further than you can see.”

I often feel sad during December: here in the north, it’s the end of the fall and the beginning of winter. Chicago winters can be brutal. We all long for spring. But winter has its lessons to teach, and ignoring them…