As the power goes out and you are sitting all alone in the
dark, your heart halts while you stare into the abyss. It’s all been said before. We are afraid of
the dark because we don’t know what to expect and thus cannot gauge our
reactions. It is often used as a
metaphor to dealing with change. We’ll always reach for the light switch while entering
a dark room because we don’t like to face the unknown. Yet, as your eyes adjust
to the darkness and you start to make out the image of furniture, you feel a
bit courageous and decide to venture from your firmly established position in
search of a flashlight or candle. Nevertheless, you embark on your journey with
caution, slowly extending each leg forward in a steady stride in an effort to avoid
walking into a wall and reaching out with your hands to guide you along the
darkness.
As you are sitting, again by yourself, in the romantic glow
of pseudo-light, you’re very alert to every sound and movement. You occasionally
call out “Who’s there?”, although you are all alone. Time creeps by, as you constantly check your
watch only to discover that minutes, nay seconds, have passed. You loudly sigh as you confusingly try to
think of things to do on your own in the dark.
Finally, you surrender to the black solitude as you lay on
the floor gazing out of the window at the shining stars, mesmerized by the
tranquility and quietness. As you lose all hope of the power returning and blow
out the candle to fall asleep, all the lights in your home ignite. You jump up
with much vitality, simultaneously reaching for the TV remote control and your
smart phone with both hands. You return to your plugged life, offsetting any
recognition of the fear that loomed upon you as the lights went out.
