The Light

One of my favourite things about visiting Los Angeles was the light. The light was beautiful. It was astounding, majestic. To be somewhere where it felt so open, so boundless. The light - both in the sun and the airiness of the place - gave you a real sense of brightness. An extra bounce to your step. An extra dose of positivity. I would've stayed in LA for just this. To feel the energy of the sun coursing through you, igniting you. I think you can see it in everyone there. There's a kind of smile you can only get when you're surrounded by so much sun.

"New York was my first introduction to the possibilities of light, crashing through gaps in curtains, transforming people and sidewalks and buildings into golden icons, or black shadows, depending on where they stood in relation to the sun. But the light in front of the mosque - the light I stood in as I was greeted like a local hero, simply for rising from my bed three hours after most of the women and children I lived with - this light was something else again. It buzzed and held you in its heat, it was thick, alive with pollen and insects and birds, and because nothing higher than one story interrupted its path, it gave all its gifts at once, blessing everything equally, an explosion of simultaneous illumination" (Zadie Smith, Swing Time, pp. 254-255).

In people, it is just as important to look for the light. To be around light, surround yourself with light- with people who glow and radiate light and goodness.

There are people out there who, I think, really are the embodiments of light. Individuals who see only the goodness in people, the goodness in the world, the potential for goodness in everything. Individuals who extend a hand, a smile - something that makes the world tilt on an easier axis. I see it in some of my friends. I see it in my favourite yoga teachers. I see it in myself sometimes. I see it in some books, a truly moving concert, a bright smile on the street. I see how rare this light is.

Seek it. Seek the light.