16th February 2021

The effect of suddenly being flung into darkness on a chill sleet washed night should be a little alarming. But there again I do happen to live on the paradise that is Orcas island, where amongst the many varied delights to be continually accepted are all manner of meteorological vagaries and unexplained power outages. That both happenstances should bestow their abundant favors simultaneously is a circumstance wholly to be expected.

Naturally, being a gentleman of clerical persuasion I have to hand a more than adequate supply of beeswax candles, so lighting my way from chair to bed, bed to bathroom, bathroom to chair is not a problem. Indeed the occasional night spent in the light of flickering flame and a good warming blaze in the wood stove is quite as pleasant an occurrence as might be imagined.

My first thoughts upon ever being thrust back into the darker ages is for those reliable and resourceful souls whom whatever the time or weather immediately leap into the breach to repair whatever circumstances might have contrived to bring back the inkiness that was the nineteenth century. We all are inclined to take non-military service personnel  for granted, forgetting that their timely intercedences are as much a vital source of protection as those is their more oft honored uniformed brethren.

Being an unapologetic creature of habit I have an overwhelming inclination towards repetitive activity. My past inclination when circumstance interfered with ritual was to start to twitch, all but visually, till normal service resumed. Thankfully that particular phobia has diluted, and at a push, with positive self-affirmation, I can now loosen my belt sufficiently to make existence almost if not entirely comfortable. Perhaps in some future time, some parallel universe, I may even begin to enjoy these enforced variances from the norm, but noticeable not this winter.

Forced singularity and enclosure, combined with a deprivation of anything but minimal lighting might easily lead to an oppressive solitude and despair. Personally, I am inclined to find the opposite, considering silent tranquility an assist to contemplation.

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