‘Rage against the dying of the light…’

You’re familiar with this poem by Dylan Thomas, aren’t you? My friend Dylan was speaking metaphorically, the dying light was the end of life. At this time of year, the end of summer, I just rage against the loss of light.

Each year I get cranky in the fall because the days get shorter. It takes a while to convince myself that this didn’t happen all at once and that its not to be taken personally. But this whole revolving four-season thing, this whole constant change thing, it’s hard.

And maybe that’s what the feelings are about. Waking up in the dark, going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark can rot a person’s brain. Especially if they eat lunch at a desk and only see hints of daylight from November through February.

I think its true that humans have a short attention span. As a history major, this pains me to admit. But it always seems sudden — losing the long warm days of summer to the dug-in nights of winter. Each year, I groan when i notice how much of the day is lost when it is dark at 8 a.m. and again by 6 p.m.

Each year, it comes round again. The cycle happens at the same times each year, but I can’t see the sameness in the cycle. That is lost in the day-to-day change.

Is it a curse of living in the modern age of musical chairs? In the office they say you have to get comfortable with change, with being uncomfortable. Is that just part of the cult of being busy?

Maybe it’s the difficult part of being an adult. Dealing with the change and sheltering the kids from it as long as possible. Adults were always saying to us kids in the 80s: “just wait until you’re older,” as if it was a threat.

If that’s a threat, it’s way too vague.

If you are going to be all broodingly ominous about the future, you need to get specific. For instance: It’s hard to be an adult. When you finally get to a point where you may sleep in or take naps again, your body won’t let you. You only need six hours of sleep a night, and you still have to get up to pee at least once.

See, now that information I can deal with. It would make me savor those college before-dinner naps more. It would probably lead to more naps, if I’m being honest. But still, that kind of data I can do something with and plan for.

Being caught unaware is the tough part. Lots of people like surprises. I only like them if I am guaranteed a happy surprise. (I may or may not have control issues.)

Perhaps that what the constancy of the changing season should teach us — that control is an illusion. That the only control around belongs to a higher power, like Mother Nature. We would just have to take a breath an look a bit farther ahead to see it.

If you ask my mom, she’ll tell you that I’ve never really been good with someone else’s plan for me, or plans in general. I have to make my own way, and that way is full of surprises. Not all of them good. But that is life — figuring out how to take on the bad stuff and move through it.

I know that isn’t quite as specific as you might need. All I can offer is to paraphrase Mr. Thomas: rage against the dying of the light. Do not go gentle into that early autumn light. There is too much left to do.