The sun is setting and the world is getting quiet. All I hear at this time of day is a faint whispering sound, as though the city knows it’s time to wind down.
In the gloaming, the light is different. Alive. If I can catch a quiet moment, where the evening sun streams through the blinds, I feel joyful. Grateful. Alive.
The light and the magic it brings with it is short. But it’s there if you can look long enough to notice it.
Then the sun sets and it’s truly twilight. Dusk. Then dark.
I cherish the peace darkness brings. I don’t miss the light – it will be back tomorrow.
At dusk, my brain quiets.
In the darkness, my body holds off on waging war and my muscles relax.
I find clarity. I notice things. I can remember what normal feels like.
A few weeks ago I became an insomniac. This normally would have driven me crazy but I loved the time it gave me to think and write and read. I went from a 9 PM-bedtime person to being awake at 2 AM and wondering why I never thought of doing this before.
It seemed natural to me.
It gave me more quiet alone time than I’ve had in the last 3 years.
I couldn’t do that forever, though. It wasn’t really healthy, and sleeping in later isn’t good for my mental health either. But I wanted that time. So badly.
I got called on it. After a stern comment from my family doctor, I agreed to work on normal sleep patterns again.
It’s worked. And it’s been okay. I know it’s better for me.
I was really and truly never a night person, though not really a morning person either. I always felt like there ought to be another adjective available.
One thing this struggle has brought me is a better understanding of what I need to do for myself. What brings me peace. What I can hold on to when I think I won’t make it through the day.
Turns out there is another adjective, and it captures what I’ve come to understand. I’m not a night person or a morning person.
I’m a twilight person.
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Just a comment on the gloaming, because – though the dictionary seems to disagree with me – there’s a difference to me between twilight and the part of the day just before that when the light comes alive in one last burst before the sun sets.
As I was writing this I couldn’t think of the word. I asked Twitter, and we combed through every synonym but that. I finally got it and, in telling those who had responded so they didn’t remain stumped, many said they didn’t even know the word.
The gloaming has always been a time of day that I wish I could bottle up and release when I need that magic and light. It’s this:
So I challenged my Twitter word-hunter friends: write something about the gloaming. I hope some of them do write, and I invite you to join in. I might write one as well, because this post is about twilight, not the gloaming – so maybe I should capture that too.
If you do write about the gloaming, please come back and let me know that you did. I would love to read it.
