Living by Light

Whenever I’m camping, I fall into the rhythm of sunset and sunrise. The natural bedtime grows in the space allowed by putting my phone to bed and listening to the chatter of the wild. As sleep settles in a rhythm, the waking follows with ease, carried on the glow of sunrise. 

There’s something about being wakened by light that feels like an invitation into the possibilities of the day, instead of being shoved into the world in darkness.

It’s not surprising that my body feels more grounded, stable, and rested after a camping trip. Even when I’m out hiking for miles, or exhausted from hauling equipment or setting up camp after a long drive, the natural rhythm of rest and wake are calming and exhilarating in mutual measure. 

But I can’t camp all the time. 

When I’m home I have blackout curtains on my window, allowing more control over my bedtime. (Without them, neighborhood lights would prevent total darkness from ever entering my room.) I also sleep with a sleep mask (something I refused, until I came to live in a house whose smoke alarm aims its green status light at my bed). 

In a world of gadgets and neighbors, and daylight savings time, it can be an effort to get deep darkness to sleep in at home. I have friends who wake up to heavy metal songs programmed into their phones, traditional alarm clocks that give them something to whack at for a few minutes of “snooze,” and others like me who switched to a fitbit vibrate-to-wake alarm meant to be less jarring.

The end result is that we’re catapulted awake in darkness, forced to slog through the shadows, or bravely switch on lights to begin the day. It’s no wonder we want to savor the edges of sleep, and prolong the darkness just five more minutes. 

Do we have to choose then between a nature-bound existence or a modern life with alarm clocks and blackout curtains? I’d been acting like that until last year. I started noticing major sleep avoidance issues. 

Lately I’ve been doing something different. 

What began as a strategy to take the decision-making out of bedtime became a way to live by light. 

I bought a twinkle timer!

Okay so maybe no one else calls it that. But I got a timer for my electrical outlet, and programmed a string of twinkle lights around my bedroom to shut off at bedtime, and glow me awake in the morning. (Check out more Sleep Automations + Tech Hacks that help with focus rest)

I don’t even let my Fitbit buzz my wrist anymore. I just feel the light peek through my sleep mask, like a private sunrise in my cozy bedroom. What started as a way to go to bed consistently became a heart-healthy way to wake up, and I realized it just feels different to live by light.

So whether nature’s glow starts and stops my work for the day, or my modern, artificially-controlled lighting of my household winks on and off; the ease of “obeying the light” has taken the second-guessing, excuse-making, and one-more-page lying out of my life. (And yes, it’s always a lie…there’s never just one more page!)

At the end of a week lived by light, I have better physical energy, sharper mental clarity, and broadened emotional bandwidth. Whenever I’ve gotten away from it, my energy has dampened. So, I thought I’d share with you, my Wild + Brave Friends.

This week, may more light reach you in the morning, filling your day with hope and energy. And may night come in its fullness, restoring you with peaceful rest. 

~Morgan

PS: This article's cover photo was from my trip to visit British Colombia for the first time. Nothing like a Glacier-fed lake to catch the light.