Perhaps this is what the brightest light truly is. Not something that replaces the night, but something that exists within it.
Darkness has always been associated with many things. Sorrow. Fear. Loneliness. Most of the time, it is seen as something heavy, and something to get through. Light, on the other hand, is recognized for what it gives. Hope. Warmth. Life. They are often placed against each other. It feels as if one must exist to defeat the other. And yet, I think deeply if they could simply be there together, without one trying to prove itself over the other.
This year marked the longest night and the brightest light. In other countries, the winter solstice is felt through cold. Through the absence of the sun. In the Philippines, it arrives differently. It is not about the weather. Nor about the cold. There is no winter, but somehow, the days feel long. Morning work. Endless tasks. This is how we experience the longest night. Not because the sun is far, but because the body is tired.
And then, the light appears. Not as something that overpowers the dark. Yes, still tired. Still struggling. But the light is there, even through it all. A familiar presence. Not on the outside. Not in the sky. But in the faces of those who greet us. Our dog. Our grandma. In the little ways that people care. Darkness can feel heavy and long. But it is met by this light.
Perhaps this is what the brightest light truly is. Not something that replaces the night, but something that exists within it. Something that waits at the end of the day. In a place called home. And maybe that is why even the longest night does not feel endless. Because in the Philippines, the brightest light is the people and places we come back to.
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