The greyness shows no sign of letting up. Yes, I go through this every year, and you would think by now that I would be certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that the light will come back. And I am . . . but I’m not. Not really. Who can ever be absolutely certain that the light will come back?
It’s the human spirit, though. It’s a strange thing, sometimes twisted and gnarled. At first, we give up. It’s human nature to give up. It’s human nature to throw our hands up in the air and wail at our defeat. It’s human nature to bow our heads, beat our breasts, and fall to our knees. It’s human nature to say, “I can’t” and “I won’t.” It’s human nature to wallow in self-pity, expecting help to come from outside ourselves.
But we reach a point when we are saturated and sated and glutted with self-pity and sorrow and weakness and fear. There comes a time when we are sickened by our cowardly ways and sniveling acquiescence. (And who among us can say that he has not been at that point at some time in his life?) There comes a time when the bloody head no longer bows, when the eyes blaze and the knee unbends.
And that time--when it comes, and it is different for each of us--that time is when the light returns. No, it has never been about the Sun. It has never been about the Golden King. He is just the symbol of what dwells within man. There comes a time when each person must stand tall and firm and shake his fist at the greyness of the world and scream, “God damn you all to hell!”
That is the light. That is the human spirit. Unconquerable and invincible. Bludgeoned? Yes. Tired and weary? Yes. But indomitable and unsurpassable. It is the something that comes from nothing. It is the first point of light, the crown, the capstone on the pyramid. The human flesh may die, but the human spirit causes gods to tremble in their shoes and cower in fear at the sheer power of the undefeatable human soul.