The sky shakes with a disruptive energy. The windows rattle and hum, producing a din of disquieting sounds. The earth beneath you emits a low moan under the enormous pressure of something that appears to have manifested without anyone ever asking or expecting it. With each sound that slices through the air, whether it is a siren screaming or an explosion booming far too close, you catch your breath, bracing yourself in expectation. You are waiting, waiting for the message to be delivered. You wait for the comforting voice, the known cadences that will tell you the loved ones in your life are, despite all odds, still alive and unharmed.
This incident accurately captures what it really means to live in an oppressive environment that is formed and upheld by the ever-present, imminent, and terrifying prospect of war.
But even here in this specific location, and here and now, the importance of light persists.
It isn’t the physical type of presence that we speak of, although that’s definitely part of it as well. There is a hallway light that hasn’t yet given in to the inevitable of burning out. There’s a telephone screen that glows with one last message that remains. Also, there’s a neighbor’s flashlight piercing the heavy smoke. All of this acts as testament that somebody, indeed, remains present and accounted for. It reflects that life, against all odds, seems somehow to be clinging on and surviving.
But light is a whole lot more than simple lighting. It becomes an important symbol full of significance. It is a promise that goes beyond the everyday and the mundane. Light becomes a fine but strong thread that you carefully wrap about your heart, giving it a kind of shield so that it will not break.
Light says, I am still here.
War works like a sly thief. It steals people’s homes, wipes laughter from the air, and takes away bright futures. It divides time into two parts: the time that existed before the destruction and the time that comes after it. But what war cannot entirely take, what it is not able to entirely kill, is the natural human desire for light. That desire reaches out to warmth and the constant yearning for peace, as well as the necessity for something soft and soothing in the middle of mayhem.
In the middle of chaos, people still light candles. Still set tables. Still hold hands. Still whisper stories to children even when the power is gone. These are acts of resistance. These are acts of love. Tiny sparks that say we are not made for destruction.
Hope is not loud or boisterous. It does not march and shout to announce its presence. It is quiet and subtle, like a soft flicker of light. It can be seen hiding in the depths of the eyes of one who stubbornly refuses to give up, no matter the obstacles and challenges that they might encounter. It echoes in the sound of a voice that says the reassuring words “I’m okay,” despite the unmistakable tremble that betrays a different truth beneath the surface. It lives in the thin, tender fingers that reach out in the darkness of the night, searching for the warmth and touch of yours. It is seen in the very act of sending a message, never mind the doubts that linger about whether it will ever be read or received by the intended. It exists in the simple yet powerful fact that in spite of all setbacks, you press on, wait patiently, and hold fast to your convictions.
Peace, when it finally returns, does not arrive with a bang and a booming party. Rather, it quietly and softly slips in between the crevices of our lives, through the hearts and souls of individuals who have never given up working on the light of hope. These are the ones who have never lost their faith in the promise of a new dawn, who never gave up even when everything seemed darkest.
In the world of design, we debate the intriguing subject of lighting, focusing on the multitude of methods through which to curve, deflect, and control it. Yet, there are instances when the only thing that light actually seeks is that it should be noticed and enjoyed. It craves to be nurtured and valued. Also, it needs to be protected from factors that might drain away its luminescence.
Here, one can find a kind of courage that is very remarkable and should be appreciated.
So, if you’re reading these words at this very moment, and the world’s weight rests on your shoulders and feels incredibly oppressive, then know this: there’s always one of us who believes in the beauty and hope of the sunrise, somewhere far out there in the sea of human existence. There’s always one of us lighting a small lamp, even if that one only glows bright in the recesses of their heart.
And maybe that particular person who meets this description is you.
Writer: Aidin Ardjomandi
