So, we set the clocks back this weekend, and the days feel much shorter—even though the amount of daylight is actually only a few minutes less than it was before. It’s all relative. How you perceive length of days depends on how the rising sun and impending darkness encircle your waking, working, active hours.
Even as I know this, the shift to an earlier sunset always feels claustrophobic. My body has to adjust. The older I get, the less I’m convinced that switching the clocks is really necessary. It’s an artificial imposition on nature’s true rhythms.
But this is just howling at the moon. I try to remind myself that our reversion to standard time also means that in a few weeks we will arrive at the winter solstice, and the days will grow longer, once again.
The earth spins, the pendulum swings, the tides ebb and flow. Election Day has finally arrived, and tomorrow, whatever the outcome, the sun will still rise and set. I try to remind myself that the longest nights eventually give way to more daylight. I try to remind myself that change is the only constant.
Image: United States seen from orbit photo by NASA