There's a certain Slant of light

I was thinking about Natalie Diaz’s poem Skin Light. See what she says:

My whole life I have obeyed it— (light, I assume)

slopes like light into her thigh—light-box, skin-bound.

Oh, how I love this poem, how light slips and slopes around like water. On light, Diaz says:

Probably most importantly, I am asking what it can mean to enact light again and again from one dark body toward another dark body—to pull light, give light, sing light, wage light, beg light, eat light, through those same dark bodies. To build and then move these bodies with light…light…light…loosing them into a contest and playing field of pleasure, forever, like light sometimes moves.

It’s true, poets are obsessed with the plays of light, how light reflects, bounces, slithers through barriers, how it can’t be held, until it is. Light is metaphors in metaphors: feeling light, lightweight, lighthearted, lightheaded, its tangible yet untouchable, we’re full of light we can’t hold.

I too am obsessed with light. Once, I drove on the 101. On the shoulder was a scattering of glass, probably from a car accident, or maybe a road rage incident. It sat there glittering under the fresh sun like a pile of gold. I should have called 911, it was so bright it was distracting, a real hazard.

Later, this song came on the radio that I really like, Croak Dream by Puma Blue. It’s very moody and brooding, dipping down into these low notes that feel like midnight. There it is - even in soundwaves, light makes an appearence, or rather the absence of it. A pop song might be described as light - think Golden from Kpop Demon Hunters. But certain songs are meant for the shadow and blues of the night sky.

I went to a coffee shop to do some writing. Sitting by the window, a piece of light peeled its way through the blinds and struck my pen. I moved the pen in circles, watching light bounce off the metal tip, beaming radiant. I was distracted from the page, focused on the dancing rays.

Maybe the real danger isn’t darkness but light. If you stare at the sun too long, you’ll go blind. For all the blessings it offers - Vitamin D, visibility of the world, warmth - it will take your ability to perceive light in an instance. Touch your hand to fire and it’ll burn. Turn the lights on and you shift from shadowy blob to fully realized human. I flick the light on and off, on and off, standing in front of him. Am I - Am I enough in this moment? Flick the light on and off and on and off again. Decide to dim the lights this time.

I wake up and the first thing that enters is light. Not the beaming sunrise but the phone. I read the headlines and the emails and allow myself to be innudated by the lights. Then it’s time to take a shower. The bathroom has it’s lights. I see my body in the mirror and do my meditations. How have I changed? Have I sunken or sagged or grown shorter? Light illuminates the problem areas - I take note then close my eyes. Nice and dark again.

When I arrive to the office I make sure I put on my sun hat to block out the light. Don’t want to age, I guess. Then there is the light from my Macbook, radiating 8 hours a day. There’s a setting to tint the light warm to reduce eye strain, but I don’t do this. Its so warm like a hug like a blanket, it makes me fall asleep. I sit by the window to escape the flood of fluorescence from the ceiling light that trap me like a rip current. I like being by an exit. I’ve lived in this office 2 years. Like my sister says “I’ve spent my entire adult life in front of a screen.”

It’s not as though I hate light. It is to be both feared and revered. There is nothing like feeling the sun after 8 hours being buried in the chilled office. Sometimes it hits my skin just right, and gives me a glow. No, I can’t stare into the sun, but I can sit beside it and wander in the spotlight.