Of Shadows and Light

It seems to me that shadows get a bad rap. Too often, shadows represent impending doom or hard times teetering on the horizon.  Which is why talk of them often is accompanied by booming, minor chords on an old, dusty church organ. 

Shadows, however, require light.  Let's be clear about that. 

So, when scientists recently announced they'd seen God's shadow--the suggestion of the existence of the elusive Higgs boson particle--I was downright giddy. 

I happen to believe that this crusty, cynical world of ours could use a bit more light.  And if shadows are the proof of such a thing, then bring them on.

This partnership of light and shadows, though, can be hard on a modern soul.  I'm reminded of the collective, horrified gasp that writer Annie Dillard heard as she and thousands of others took to the foothills of Washington state to witness a rare, total solar eclipse.  Their horror came as the long shadow of the eclipse raced along the spine of the hills--at thousands of miles an hour--eating up what was at once familiar and comforting to these people.

I suppose, then, it is to be expected that there will be a similar collective gasp in the wake of this most recent scientific discovery.  We are, after all, creatures of habit.

I, however, am hungry for some new habits.  I'm ready for some shedding of our culture's collective snarkiness and cynicism.  Let's wallow in wonder for a bit, roll it around on our tongues, delighting in its undefinable flavor. 

For once, let's stand, slack jawed and silent, in the shadows of something shiny and pure, a tenuous, golden thread that connects us with both past and future. 

Let's relish the shadow that suggests something much bigger than the rest of us.