Running into the darkness
Quick thoughts on Vince Staples' Dark Times and why we should protect darkness
Dear reader,
We’re all a little afraid of darkness, right? It’s mysterious. As with most things that we are afraid of, the fear lies between the boundaries of the unknown and lack of control. That fear drives us to make desperate attempts for light, doing just about anything to escape the uncertainty of the darkness. A couple weeks ago, during a trip to the Museum of Natural History, I learned there’s a town in the southern region of Japan that’s embracing the darkness; not looking to escape it and even taking deliberate steps to protect it. Bisei, a small town with a little over 5,000 people is playing a part in the fight against light pollution. I came to the museum to look at the dinosaur fossils but ended up learning about the “town of beautiful stars” and the impact of excessive use of artificial light. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t even know what light pollution meant but after learning Bisei partnered with Panasonic to replace all public outdoor lighting with dark sky friendly fixtures, I began thinking, what happens when we invest in darkness instead of trying to dismantle it?
After listening to Dark Times an insane amount of times since it dropped, I can’t help but think Vince Staples is making the same investment as Bisei. Dark Times feels like Vince’s way of applauding the beauty of darkness — staring directly into it, admiring the fear and anxiety we attempt to escape from. Vince has always been a man of contrast; unapologetically Crip despite not fitting the typical “gangsta aesthetic.” Dark Times lifts the veil of darkness. It’s an exploration of the tiny moments of light that appear within the larger, darker moments of temptation, heartbreak and grief — and still, Dark Times is hopeful.
As I reflect on my own life, I realize darkness takes the form of many of the same things Vince raps about. The heartbreak, the temptation but mainly the grief. After losing my mother last year, the darkness comes and goes but the grief stays. Grief is dark and strange. Sometimes it feels heavy; other times it feels joyful. It always feel like love and that’s the part that hurts. I’m learning to welcome it though. So while I lie in bed, eyes closed with my mother wandering into my dreams, I ask myself, what if darkness was something to offer protection to and not protection from?
Sincerely,
Shep
so beautifully written
Such a lovely and thought-provoking read, as always. This aligns so well with a podcast episode I listened recently from Green Dreamer titled "Perdita Finn: Sitting with the wisdoms of darkness, death, and decay". I think you'll enjoy listening.