Why do I call this blog Properties of Light?
Partly because my name, Lucinda, means “light bringer.” I’ve always loved that. It is the deepest wish of my heart to spread light in dark places. Chris Rice wrote a song I like.
Go Light Your World
Carry your candle, run to the darkness,
Seek out the helpless, confused, and torn.
Carry your candle for all to see it,
Take your candle, go light your world.
I made a promise once. I meant it with all my shaking soul.
But what do the properties of light have to do with story?
Light is so much more than the visible spectrum and the daily brightness of sun with which we associate it–although those things are tremendous in themselves. But God created light before he ever put the sun in the sky or hung the stars in space. Its laws underlie all of physics and all of life.
In a different sense, story also underlies all of life. Life is the swirl and dance, the color, the sound. And story, much more than merely naming a series of events in order, is the meaning beneath.
The speed of light is constant. Or is it? In the world of quarks and quantum, anything is possible.
And light travels at the fastest possible speed of the universe. Of this physicists are almost certain, though tachyon aficionados, sci-fi enthusiasts, and new age healers may feel differently.
Whatever else it may be, light is inherently mysterious and never fully understood.
Did you know that when you see an object, you are not seeing the actual object, but a stream of photons that bounce off of it, enter your eyes, and are translated by your brain? Therefore, everything you see is actually within yourself.
Reminds me of that saying, “Life is the story we tell ourselves.”
And we see such a small part of it.
Have you ever wondered what beauty there might be if you could perceive the colors on either side of the visible spectrum? The percentage of what we humans actually see of the electromagnetic spectrum is tiny in the extreme.
I think maybe in heaven we’ll see the rest of those colors.
Light is silent, but sound becomes its companion with every crack of thunder. For years, people of the north have claimed to hear the mysterious sounds of the northern lights. These sounds have been recorded, but never explained.
Story is movement, and inherently mysterious. Story is color, perceived from within. And story is sound. The beauty of that sound has never been explained.
On this blog I propose to explore story.
Not always to write stories–we will leave that to the plot planners and the word junkies. Here we explore. We observe, watch for beauty, capture movement and color and sound. We make a record of things that have meaning to us.
We find a story, sometimes, maybe.