What Happened in September?

/ moragnoffke

My September wasn’t particularly interesting apart from an enjoyable couple of days when my brother-in-law and his partner visited. So I decided to discuss the shifting of light which I have observed and considered over the last month.

I have been living in Scotland since October 2022: four years this month and in this last year I have really settled down to finding my routine. I wouldn’t say that the light bothered me, rather it intrigued me but it was quite something to get used to. Before I go on about light I want to mention that October is a rather meaningful month for me, not only did I immigrate in October but it is also my mother’s birth month and the month she died in. She died seven years ago. My mother was a bright, energetic light all her life and it was hard watching her slip away from this world over her last year, much like the sun setting. In her last week her light gently faded away into the evening of her soul. It is sad losing a loved one: parent, spouse, child or friend; all painful but what I have noticed is her light burns on ever brighter in my life. It doesn’t stop. As I have embraced Scotland I have held onto the things she has taught me, Her example is a light for my path and She is woven into the fabric of our family. Remembering Her in her special month seems fitting even as I talk about light. Her light comforts me as I remember her ways.

And so does the light in the world comfort me too. I have gotten used to the dramatic changes here as we are much closer to the arctic circle: our village is at the latitude of 55.63 and the arctic circle is at 66.33 where as Cape Town, where I previously lived is on the Tropic of Capricorn (23.436). I think you might remember at first when I came to Scotland the changes were fascinating, almost exhilarating, yet also hard to get used to, especially the dark winters. I learnt to use a daylight lamp which helped my circadian rhythm and in the long run it has taught me to respect my circadian rhythm so much more. When we are young we think we are invincible and that sleep doesn’t really matter but since moving here it has taught me to respect the invisible rhythms of my being which is why waking up with the light is so important to me.

As the light faded this September I felt like I was embracing the concept of being enveloped by the cocoon of autumn – especially in the mornings when I greet the day by drinking my water and welcoming the sun onto my skin and into my life. I try to do this as early as possible and I even throw the window wide open to better absorb the sun. As I welcome the sun I also invite myself and the Light of God (Universe/ Spirit/ He/She/They – however you choose to think) to be ever present and mindful in my little microcosm. The light undulates slowly between joyous bright light as it rises in the mornings to evenings of streams of silver light emanating from the starry sky, rivers glinting back light to the moon and when it’s snowy the landscape takes on a peculiar, eerie infused light. And of course in Scotland when there is cloud cover (almost all the time) the nights are pitch black, thick like velvet.

Light has so many gradients here, throughout the day and year, and that’s how I find relating to others too. We all have gradients of light emanating from our souls: undulating energy. Sometimes we burn brightly and sometimes there is a gentle warm glow, and other-times we verge on the dark side of black velvet. I think if we could accept our own and each other’s moods or energy and welcome each other’s light, however it presents itself, we might see more beauty in each other.

And that my dear friends is what I have to tell you at the end of September. I am enjoying thinking about Light in all It’s various forms.

Take care.

-Morag Noffke-

27 thoughts on “What Happened in September?”

  2. What a wonderful way to speak of your mother, comparing her to the light.🕯️ Light, or energy, is within all of us and and for those living in the higher latitudes we are probably more aware of the gradual changes in light throughout the seasons. Thank you Morag for this lovely post. 🤗🍂❤️

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      • Dear Morag, As we approach the end of October we often think of Halloween as being about bloodthirsty ghouls and the like but this is often just a commercialisation of an ancient festival, Samhain (pronounced sow-ein), when we remember our ancestors and those who have passed. So thinking of your mother at this time is so appropriate.

        I have tried a couple of times to add a video by Malcolm Guite, a poet, to this comment but something’s not allowing it. I shall send an email later with a link which I hope you will enjoy as a small gift (the video will clarify).

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      • Thank you so much for your small gift💫 yes you are right it’s a time of remembering our ancestors. That’s a good reminder. I will look out for your email. Thank you for letting me know you are emailing me. I look forward to watching it. 🍁🦋🍂

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  4. “My dear, what a beautiful and poetic reflection on light, the transitions of nature, and the memory that always lives within us. I loved how you connect the changing days in Scotland to the timeless light that our loved ones continue to radiate in our lives, and that wonderful metaphor about the different ‘gradients and moods’ of the human soul. A heartwarming and deeply inspiring read to close out September. A very warm hug!”

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  6. I’ve sometimes wondered what it would be like to live in a place like Scotland or one of the Scandinavian countries and experience those long nights and short days. Here in Florida, the light is shifting a bit – getting dark earlier in the evenings and the sun is taking longer to rise in the mornings – but it’s nothing like what you live with.

    I think that because I was born and raised in the southeastern U.S., I need sunlight. Too many rainy days in a row and I start to feel morose and melancholy. 🙂

    This was a wonderful read, Morag. Cheers, my friend!

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    • Fortunately we’re not as far up as the Scandinavian countries. My niece in Norway doesn’t see daylight in winter for 3 months. That’s crazy. Here we have about 5 or 6 hours sunlight per day in winter.

      So the southern part of Florida’s latitude is 24 which is close to the tropic of cancer which is 23 and the north of Florida’s latitude is at 31 so it is pretty much like Cape Town or other parts of South Africa. Yes we grew up with the days having dawn and dusk but it is quite a short duration. Derek really struggled with the transition whereas, maybe because I have Scottish and Nordic genes it might have been easier for me. We take vitamin D all year around to help with the lack of sun. Thinking about it I get grumpy when there’s too much heat. 😀

      I’m glad you enjoyed the post, Richard.
      Cheers to you too 👋

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