Standing In The Night

The other night as I made my sojourn home after what seemed like hours in traffic, I saw this lone oak tree out in the field. I’ve seen this tree standing there at that turn through every season year after year. It’s been the focus many photos . This particular night, however, it seemed to possess a different power. I felt like it was speaking directly to me about the Power of standing. Not just standing when you have all your ducks in a row or you think you’re at your best but standing just as tall under the cloak of darkness. Life often brings moments that feel like long nights—when the darkness seems overwhelming, and the weight of our struggles eclipses the light of our creative spirit. For those of us with unconventional careers—artists, writers, innovators—these nights can feel particularly heavy. Especially since we’re already navigating uncharted waters, relying on our passion, plans, and fortitude to stay afloat.

Recently, I was reminded of this when a dear friend, someone I consider a sister, faced the unimaginable loss of both her parents within a short time. These were people who not only shaped her life but also touched mine. They were pillars, guiding lights whose love and wisdom made the world feel more steady. In their absence, she could have crumbled under the weight of grief. But instead, I saw her stand—tall, unwavering, and deeply rooted in her truth. Her smile became the sunshine, the glow in dark times.

Watching her navigate this profound loss, I was struck by her resilience. She reminded me that standing in the night is not about denying the darkness. It’s about acknowledging it while refusing to let it extinguish your light. As creatives, we often find ourselves in similar moments. The rejection, the self-doubt, the financial uncertainty—they can all conspire to pull us into the shadows and choke out the power of our craft.

But here’s the lesson: the night is not the end. It’s a canvas. In those moments of darkness, you have a choice. You can retreat, or you can create. You can let the night silence you, or you can let it inspire you to speak louder. My friend chose to stand in her power, honoring her parents’ legacy by continuing to live fully, to love deeply, and to create meaning from her pain. For those of us pursuing paths that require risk, courage and creativity, we must do the same. We have to stand in the night. We have to create in spite of it—or perhaps because of it. Our art, our work, our very lives are testimonies to the fact that the night cannot last forever. Moreover, You’re never really alone, no matter how solitary you feel. You are rooted in the dreams and hopes of the ancestors, planted in this earth.

Remember that stars shine brightest in the darkest skies. So, when life feels heavy, remember this: your power and connection doesn’t vanish with the setting sun. It becomes a beacon, guiding you and others through the night. Stand tall. Stand firm. Stand in the night. And know that your light, no matter how dim it may feel, has the power to guide you home while illuminating the path for someone else. Keep creating. Keep believing. Keep standing.