The Imaginary Front Porch

The prospect of joining people around the world for an hour in darkness on March 29th was something I looked forward to all day long.  After consideration of candlelight or using a portable lantern during that time I made the decision simply to enjoy the dark and let it be filled with music.  Sibelius symphonies were my choice.

CD on…lights out…all settled into a comfortable chair with a view out my study window… no obligations.  I am very good at relaxing and doing nothing, though I discovered long ago that my mind rarely understands the “doing nothing” part.  I am certain that my teachers and parents would have loved clarity about that many years ago but I have come to enjoy that aspect of myself.

I completely relaxed into the music, listening closely to the individual instruments, the tapestry of sounds, the lulls and the swells and the measures that sweep me away with their beauty.  For a very few minutes it was just the music and me.  And then it was the music and me and noticing how many lights were off in the condos I can see from that window. I began imagining all of the residents who live there.  Who are they?  Did they know about Earth Hour or were they away from home? That made me get up and walk around the house to see if other neighboring lights were out.  I was like a little Earth Hour spy. 

All the while I was spying I was watching the incredible evening weather…trees in the wind…all different shapes, heights, leaves out, no leaves yet…but all swaying to the music of Sibelius.  It was as if they could hear it and feel the rhythm.  I watched and listened and was amazed at how indoors and outdoors came together in a dance.  And then the lightning and the thunder added their contributions and I realized that I was in the middle of the symphony of nature and the symphony of instruments, giving me a dazzling show that was free, one which I would have entirely missed had the lights been on.

And while all of that was going on I was thinking about John and Abigail Adams…the little orange 1950′s book I can still see, a story about Abigail’s life that I remember relishing… and the David McCullough rendering of John Adams’ life that I so enjoyed reading.  What would the two of them and everyone in that time of history think about a day having to be purposely designated to show the need for saving electricity? How did we get from candles and kerosene lamps to this? 

Thinking about that little orange book made me start perusing the bookshelves in the dark, unable to see titles but mulling the many categories, which led me to thinking about all of the bookstores I have been in around the country and the gift of books in my life

And this is long enough…but at some point when I knew the hour was getting close to ending I realized that the hour of darkness was the most wonderful gift to someone for whom focus is a challenge.  There were no parameters…there was nothing I was meant to be attending to at that moment and daydreams stealing the time instead…I wasn’t having to steer myself back to a task…I was free, free, free to think about all that I wanted to think about and let my mind go where it wanted…and it led me during that hour to all kinds of fabulous places. 

At 9 PM, with a tinge of regret, I turned the lights back on.

The minds of children who struggle with focus are often like this. The more I understand, the more I wonder how to make the world of education one that honors them more fully. 

This entry was posted on Sunday, April 6th, 2008 at 5:59 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.