The subject today is enlightenment, as in literally letting light come in to cast out the darkness.

Since moving to Winston-Salem nearly three years ago, I have been scouring Ebay and Offerup to buy new lamps for every corner of our house. Partly, this was a result of multiple lamps broken during our last move. But mostly it had to do with darkness.

Leaving our beloved Texas, we also left the land of (nearly) perpetual sunshine. To intensify the situation, Winston-Salem seemed so often overcast. Suffice it to say my romantic longings for the poetry of fog have been more than satisfied.

But the real culprit in my despair at darkness was none of the above. I had developed cataracts. Yes, it was unnerving when the ophthalmologist explained the situation. The solution this time would not be a new pair of glasses.

Nonetheless I successfully talked myself out of dealing with the problem. Why? Terror is my first reaction to all medical procedures except dental ones. Give me dental challenges and I’m ready to march into battle. Really, how can one complain if you recognize how much of the globe does not have access to technologically advanced dentistry? Think, too, of the long sweep of history when no solutions existed to tooth pain other than de-toothing the ailing person (and that didn’t solve every complaint, did it?).

But surgery outside of teeth? Perish the thought.

After waffling across a four-year interim of increasing darkness, I had to take the step. Today I am “two eyes out” with one eye largely healed and the other climbing the hill out of pain. Yes, yes, I know people say they rarely notice after-affects from cataract surgery. I’m the exception that proves the rule. Still, pain is okay and it’s going to get better.

Meanwhile, there is light. Light everywhere. It turns out North Carolina isn’t as dark as I thought. Furthermore, the walls in our house are not brown. Nor are the carpets. The azaleas are ablaze with a fire I didn’t see the first two springs we lived here.

Moreover, there are way too many lamps in our house now. I have tortured my family all this time, setting every square foot of the house into light-overdrive. Nowhere was it worse than at the kitchen table (with eight bulbs belonging to the fixture above the table, and a lamp positioned on either side, plus all of the regular kitchen ceiling lights). To think: I sometimes added candles!

Now I’m running the clip backwards: “Do we really need all of these lights at dinner?” “Will someone please turn off that halogen floor-lamp?” “Yikes, close those blinds!” Nobody is laughing yet, but maybe they will.

In an effort to give more meaning to my revelation, I’ve been thinking about the word enlightenment—not necessarily the philosophical movement of the late 17th century that culminated in the influential writings of Voltaire and Rousseau. Rather, I am reflecting on the enlightenment experienced when we throw in the towel and undertake something that, hitherto, has been obscured by a dark film.

It could be the study of a language (like a long-awaited foray into Latin or Greek). Or, it might be taking the plunge into the mysteries of works like the Illiad or Mahler’s Symphony No. 4. Then too, the influx of light can come from heeding to a life-long desire to master a loom or throw a pot.

Enlightenment comes not only in what finally can see, or dare to undertake, but also in what we receive from those who open our understanding. Without fail, I am inspired by words of my colleagues who labor in this new-old educational movement that goes under so many rubrics, including Classical Education, Great Books’ Programs, Charlotte Mason, or traditional education.

Last week I drank another draught from an on-line “Classical Consortium” conference fielded by Messrs. Martin Cothran, Andrew Kern, Christopher Perrin, Andrew Pudewa, and myself. I wait for a day when their talks leave me flat, but it does not happen. The light always shines.

With six panels scheduled for the conference, I worried we might have overdone. But no: attendance at the panels was robust. Each one differed from the other, with an ongoing stream of insights flowing like a geyser.

During these virtual events, I run a parallel window on my screen where I scribble the bounty of titles and resources recommended by you, the attendees. When I can, I paste-in excerpts of the inspiring prose that flies through the chat boxes. Truly, the community is strong, growing, and filled with light.

While much of our society is enmeshed in despair, buying armfuls of lamps to dispel the darkness, the bold individual and collective energies of this movement are pulling the scales off of our culture’s eyes. Some days it seems impossible, I admit. But do not let the fog deceive you. The work is too important to entertain even a speck of darkness.