Its the time of year when the sun barely makes it over the roof tops, and patches of frost find a permanent home on the grass, untouched by any source of heat or light. There are only about 8 hours of sunlight available each day, and most days in Vancouver it is hidden behind a layer of thick cloud and cold torrential rain that is a ubiquitous entity over the city, resulting in numerous days of perpetual darkness.
The lack of sunlight at times is oppressive entity and it becomes an act of defiance to venture outside for a walk and breathe in the crisp darkness. Once in a while there is a reward; the clouds break momentarily and reveal snow peaked mountains looming in the distance.
Having been abandoned by the sun, primal fears can emerge. To be deprived even momentarily of our source of life is intuitively alarming, even though rationally we know it will return. It can make us feel more alone, left to wander freely within ourselves. Our masks are stripped away and unneeded as we hide in the shadows. I can go to some dark places at times myself this time of year, and even the lack of sunlight seems to slow down the pace and will of my body.
Often I just want to hibernate, hide away from the world and pack it in for a while, perhaps re-emerging at some point in February. This fantasy involves burrowing away in a room with a stack of books and an endless supply of campy old movies to loose myself in. Not a possibility really, but still appealing nonetheless.
I am compiling a mental list of what I would read and watch in my own private den during my state of pseudo hibernation. The film poster noted above reflects one of my many choices, complete with a tag line that in many ways reflects the hope I cling to during this dark time - "love means never having to say our ugly".
I know the darkness will eventually dissipate and the beauty that is around me and within me will reemerge in the light. For a little while longer though, the shadows will continue to assert dominance and I will wait...,