Blinking: Finding the Light in the Dark
A reflection on perception, presence, and the quiet power of choice
We blink a thousand times a day. A thousand times a day the world goes dark. A thousand times a day we wake. We can’t escape this opening and closing. It’s a reflex we can’t control. Even as you read this, your eyes, along with your heart and mind, are blinking — opening and closing repeatedly, no matter what you do. It is part of being human.
Yet so much depends on which you see as home — being open or closed. Do you see life as one stream of light interspersed with nights of dark, or as one stream of darkness interspersed with days of light? Though there will never be an answer, what we believe about the nature of life matters. It lifts or burdens our days. So ask yourself, more than once, Is life one long miracle of feeling interspersed with moments of breaking? Do we repeatedly fall into our humanness from never-ending light? Or is life one long painful breaking interspersed with moments of wonder? Do we struggle up from the unending dark briefly into glimpses of light?
Obviously there are times we feel one way and times we are certain it is the other. There are even times we know it is both. But how we allow for both — how much we make the light our home and how much we settle into the dark — determines the personal alchemy of our hope and despair, our optimism and pessimism, our belief and doubt.
Perhaps the wisdom in blinking is that it keeps us in the middle, keeps us from drowning in the dark and from burning up from the light. Perhaps this is the reflex that lets us make sense of being human.
— Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening
The Alchemy of Light and Dark
Mark Nepo’s reflection touches something deep in the human spirit—especially for those of us who walk into darkness by profession.
In law enforcement, corrections, fire, EMS, and public safety roles, you witness more darkness than most will in their entire lives.
And yet—despite that—you are still here. Blinking. Waking. Living.
You are the one who shows up in the middle of the night.
You are the one who walks into other people’s worst moments.
You are the one who carries both the burden and the beauty of that work.
But how you carry it—and how you see it—can either weigh you down or lift you up.
How You See Shapes What You Feel
“Hostile people live in a hostile world. Loving people live in a loving world.
Same world.”
— Dr. Wayne Dyer
“There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle.
The other is as though everything is.”
— Albert Einstein
What we believe about the world matters.
It affects how we see ourselves.
It affects how we see each other.
It determines whether our lives feel like a tragedy or a hero’s journey.
And the truth is: you are the one who chooses.
You don’t get to choose the trauma, the calls, the pain.
But you do get to choose whether you’ll allow one moment of beauty to matter as much as one moment of pain.
You get to decide whether you’ll only survive this life… or slowly learn to savor it.
The Science of Why This Works
From a neuroscience perspective, your brain is wired to prioritize and remember negative experiences—a survival reflex called negativity bias.
But research shows that taking just 12 to 20 seconds to savor a positive experience can begin to rewire your brain (Hanson, 2013).
That means:
A hug from your child.
A kind word from a partner.
A sunset on your drive home.
A moment of laughter with a coworker.
Any one of these, if truly absorbed, has the power to become part of your inner architecture.
To tip the scales.
To let the light weigh more than the dark.
This Isn’t Pollyanna Optimism. It’s Spiritual Strength.
The goal isn’t to pretend everything is good when it isn’t.
It’s to hold both—the pain and the joy, the dark and the light—and choose where you will rest your heart.
This is what spiritual resilience looks like.
Not fixing.
Not denying.
But practicing the courage to see the miracle, even in the mess.
Because just like blinking, you will always close.
You will always fall.
But you can always open again.
You can always rise.
Practice: Relishing the Good
For the next 7 days, your challenge is this:
Find one good thing each day—and let it matter.
Here’s how:
Notice something good: a warm coffee, a kind gesture, a breath of fresh air.
Pause and take 12–20 seconds to really feel it. Let it sink in.
Name it silently: “This is good. This matters.”
Savor it like you’d savor your favorite food—slowly, with full attention.
This is how you build the habit of seeing light.
This is how you become a light chaser.
This is how your spirit begins to remember that there is still beauty here.
Final Thought
You blink a thousand times a day.
A thousand times a day, you close and open again.
Each time is a chance to begin again.
Each time is a moment to choose the light.
And every time you choose it—
you strengthen your spirit.
You heal your heart.
You change your life.
You are not broken. You are blinking.
Keep opening.
Keep noticing.
Keep savoring the light.