Light x Dark

The Unseen Problem of Constant Light

We live our lives bathed in an artificial glow. From the screen you're reading this on to the overhead lights in our homes and the ever-present glare outside, we are a society that has largely banished the night. We have endless light at our fingertips, yet so many of us feel chronically tired, stressed, and disconnected from the natural world.

What if the relentless pursuit of brightness is part of the problem? What if, despite all our modern comforts, we have overlooked a fundamental biological need for darkness? The solution to some of our most common wellness struggles may not lie in a new app or supplement, but in reclaiming an ancient, natural rhythm. Simply dimming the lights in the evening is a profound act with surprising benefits for our sleep, our biochemistry, and the ecosystems around us. When was the last time you saw a firefly? 

Let's explore four forgotten truths about darkness—and how reclaiming them can be a revolutionary act of healing for both you and the world.

The Forgotten Rhythms of Biphasic Sleep

If we look back, we discover something astonishing about our ancestors' sleep. Before the Industrial Revolution, sleeping through the night in a single, eight-hour block was not the norm. For much of human history, people practiced a pattern known as "biphasic sleep." This natural rhythm consisted of a "first sleep" that began after dusk, followed by a quiet, wakeful period of one or two hours, and then a "second sleep" that lasted until dawn.

This was not a primitive quirk but an adaptive rhythm perfectly aligned with the earth's natural light cycles. That quiet, wakeful period in the gentle darkness wasn't wasted time; it was a precious, built-in opportunity for the nervous system to find time for quiet reflection, memory consolidation, and emotional reset. We have not just lost a pattern of sleep; we have lost a dedicated, natural space for mental and emotional processing.

The advent of electricity radically disrupted this pattern, extending the day and pushing our bedtimes later. This historical shift is profoundly significant—it suggests that many of our modern sleep struggles may stem from a fundamental mismatch between our 24/7 lit environment and our own innate biological expectations for rest.

Low Light: The Biochemical Key to Healing

Dimming the lights as evening approaches is more than a signal to unwind; it is a direct biochemical instruction to your body to begin its nightly process of healing and restoration. The gradual decline of light acts as a natural trigger for the nervous system to downshift from the stresses of the day. You can support this process with dim, warm-toned light, like that from 2700K bulbs or candles.

This transition initiates several key physiological processes. It allows the neurotransmitter serotonin to convert into melatonin, the hormone that regulates sleep architecture and quality. It helps lower stress hormones like cortisol and relaxes blood pressure. Research shows that maintaining a sharp contrast between bright days and dimmer nights is linked to reduced inflammation and a significantly lower mortality risk.

Ultimately, choosing low light in the evening is a practical health intervention that restores your body's fundamental processes for regulating sleep, mood, and immunity. But this biochemical restoration is not an isolated human process; the very light that disrupts us is also disrupting the entire ecosystem we depend on.

Beyond Human Health: How Our Lights Harm the Ecosystem

Our constant artificial brightness disconnects us from the ecosystem, and in doing so, causes it harm. Light pollution is a pervasive and disruptive force that upends the behavior, reproduction, and survival of nocturnal wildlife that evolved over millennia under dark skies.

The dragonfly provides a poignant example. Evolved to navigate by moonlight, dragonflies often confuse bright artificial lights for the shimmering surfaces of water bodies. This fatal attraction interrupts their mating and reproduction cycles, as they lay eggs in inhospitable places, exhaust themselves, and become easy targets for predators.

This impact extends far beyond a single species. Light pollution causes larger animals to avoid otherwise suitable habitats, fragmenting ecosystems. It also threatens nocturnal pollinators and causes broader insect declines that ripple through food chains, threatening overall biodiversity. Therefore, the choice to dim a living room light is not just a personal one; it is a small but meaningful vote to preserve the darkness that is a vital habitat for countless species.

Reclaiming the Night: A Layered Return to Ecological Truth

The ultimate expression of this philosophy is found in open, nature-integrated living, such as in the forest communities and eco-retreats of Bali. This way of life isn't just a pleasant escape; it is the ultimate answer to the problems we've discussed. It offers "layered benefits" by structurally aligning human physiology with what can be called "ecological truth"—the simple, undeniable reality that our bodies are designed to function in sync with the planet's natural, unbroken cycles of light, air, and sound.

A perfect illustration of this intentional alignment is the Balinese tradition of Nyepi, or the Day of Silence. For 24 hours, the entire island comes to a standstill: no lights are turned on, no fires are lit, travel is forbidden, and noise is minimized. This cultural reset creates a night of unparalleled darkness and quiet—an intentional, powerful moment where an entire population collectively honors the biological and ecological need for rest.

This lifestyle may even naturally restores the biphasic sleep rhythms our bodies crave, provides the biochemical signals for healing, and eliminates the light pollution that harms our ecosystem. This deep immersion is the foundation of practices like "shinrin-yoku," or forest therapy, which is known to lower blood pressure and reduce anxiety.

Framing this approach as a fleeting trend misses the point. It is a "return" or a "homecoming." By choosing to live with low light and closer to nature—whether in a forest or by simply observing the dusk from our own window—we reconnect with ancestral patterns. This practice restores rhythm, presence, and a powerful sense of ecological attunement that modern life has often buried.

What could you rediscover in the quiet moments if you let the darkness back in?