Our theme for the month of March is “light.”
During the Perseid meteor shower last August, some friends and I drove an hour north to watch. The shower was supposed to peak at eighty meteors an hour, and it was a clear night with a good view. We had a great time laying on blankets in a field, sharing snacks, making conversation and telling dumb jokes. Fireflies were out, another light show much closer to home than the celestial one we were there to see. We had a fun time, at least until the sprinklers in the field turned on and cut our evening short. As we drove back to town, we could see a luminous haze above Grand Rapids; the light pollution which prevented us from viewing the show from our backyards.
I don’t know that I understand light pollution as much as I’ve accepted it exists. It’s a fact that fewer stars are visible from my backyard than from the Manistee River Trail in northern Michigan. With more light in the world, fireflies are having a harder time mating, and sea turtle hatchlings can be disoriented as they instinctively move towards the brightest part of their environment. There are human impacts as well, as circadian rhythms can be disrupted without sufficiently dark environments.
In conversations about environmental impacts (or the ones I’ve participated in) light pollution is often overlooked, because light is usually a good thing. From the cities to the swamplands and from the highways to the hills, electric lights let us easily navigate the world when the Sun’s not out. They let us stay out later or get up earlier, work longer hours so laborers can produce more value as measured by the economy. And the obvious solution is to turn off the lights, which would leave us in the dark; an unenjoyable situation which can increase feelings of loneliness or isolation. (Though there are better, more actionable solutions, like focusing lights so they only shine in a specific area.)
Perhaps light pollution is why I’m drawn (like a moth to a flame?) to stories which utilize light as a sign of evil or a corrupting force. From Hollow Knight, to the Doctor Who episode “42,” to yes, Homestuck, to even like the White Witch from The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, because light is often synonymous with good, twisting that association is a fun trope, though it happens a lot more than I expected.
Light pollution is perhaps the simplest environmental problem humans have caused. An excess of a good thing harms the natural world. There are clear solutions, yet the scale of the problem happening in every city makes me feel like it won’t ever be solved. So as much as I’d like to stargaze from my backyard, I’ll keep driving north to see the stars, and hope the sprinklers won’t force me to leave early.
It is kind of wild that light can be harming too, but it does satisfy me that you won’t let it get in the way of your enjoying it too.
(Also shout out for Hollow Knight).