Beauty in the Longest Night
Looking for the light of winter
Since sharing this piece, I’ve heard from many of you that life has been a strange happy/sad cocktail, especially during this “most wonderful time of the year.” Everything sad feels sadder in the midst of all the festive cheer. I’m realizing once again there’s much I can’t fix, and since I love to be a very helpful helper, this makes me feel a little cuckoo. It’s hard not to let numbness take over, to turn away and zone out from the suffering, and mindlessly scrolling dumb videos for hours. (Although I did see a seal playing a saxophone the other day, and that buoyed the spirits like no other.)
Is there any beauty in this long night? Call it one too many children’s books, but when I hear that question, my mind immediately goes to a Lily Huckleberry riddle where an elf whispers in a forest glen:
The night, the night, the long, long night?
You might, you might, look for the light…
Terrible rhyming aside, the phrase “look for the light” has bounced around in my head the past few weeks. In obnoxious Bay Area fashion, the sunlight on the bay has been incredible, and I’ve been trying to get out into it as much as possible.
Although I’ve been known to wax poetic about the golden light, I’m not sure I’ve ever paid this much attention to the winter glimmers. And yes, the sad is still sad, but I have noticed the change it brings to my spirit to slow down and put myself in the path of beauty if even for five minutes.
When you start looking for it, you find that light comes in many forms. In a satisfying synchronicity, it has snuck into my life in the shape of two documentaries.
A Film to Watch: American Symphony
The short summary: By Matthew Heineman and streaming on Netflix, this film explores a year in the life of musician Jon Batiste and writer
as they navigate creative opportunities and triumph alongside the personal devastation of Suleika’s cancer.I’ve been following their story for a long time since making my book club read Suleika’s memoir Between Two Kingdoms, (and yes, they now limit the amount of cancer memoirs we can read each year), but you don’t have to know either character to enjoy the film.
To note, it’s not a cheery Christmas movie, but it hit my happy/sad mood of the moment, and I cried through most of it. The director pulls off masterful storytelling—making it intimate without being exploitative, weaving together incredible music and space to absorb the narrative.
One of my favorite moments of the film occurs in the hospital as a group of friends gathers to sing to Suleika while Jon plays the keyboard. It’s a simple moment, far away from Carnegie Hall or the Grammys, but to me it felt like a holy moment, sacred ground, watching the way music spoke what words could not.
It couldn’t have been an easy process to let themselves be filmed in this way, but it felt like an honor to be invited in to watch this duo create as a way to survive the paradox of joy and grief. Although this kind of public vulnerability is not the path for everyone, I experienced it as a generosity in their grief, a way through the long night.
Let me know if you watch it. I’d love to hear your thoughts.
A Film to Make: She Carries It
I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again—you never know where the creative process is going to take you once you open yourself to the adventure. Sometimes you end up waving red fabric surrounded by houseboats on a brisk December day, making an unexpected documentary.
In a fun turn of events, I’m collaborating with filmmaker Ben Suliteanu to bring this story of my friend Abby and The Red Dress Project to life.
It’s been stretching and vulnerable, (hello the awkwardness of being filmed—let me behind the camera than in front of it any day). However, I agreed to it because I love a good story, and Abby’s is a story worth telling.
During the filming, Ben asked thoughtful questions like, “How has this project changed your relationship to the color red?” and “What can a photograph say that writing can’t?” to which I spent a lot of time to stalling and diverting the conversation by exclaiming, “Ben! What a brilliant question—you should think about making documentaries!” (Yes, I am his favorite interviewee ever ;)
Making this film has been a gift to me, infusing light and beauty in these short December days. It’s been invigorating from a creative perspective as I’ve been geeking out learning more about the documentary process, ever fascinated by the art of storytelling.
Creating this piece hasn’t change the terrible reality that my dear friend is still missing one of her children, but it has pushed back the despair for a moment. It reminds me of this quote from
, “Whatever pain you can’t get rid of, make it your creative offering.”Like those involved in American Symphony, Abby and her husband Ross have been generous with their grief, and I feel priviliged to play a small part in telling their story and creating this offering.
Here’s to a bit of beauty in these long nights.
I’ll share She Carries It once the film is complete, or if you are in the Bay Area, I’d love to have you come to the live version at the art show debut. It’s from 6-9pm this Friday, December 15 at 1325 Valencia St, San Francisco.
Please send me any winter light that comes your way. Post in comments or tag me on Instagram: @jackieknapp_