Dark nights, Bright lights

“You are lucky”, proclaimed the Finn next to me. Standing on a frozen lake in the middle of Finnish Lapland, I was unable to feel my fingers or toes in temperatures close to 30 below, the Arctic air stinging my nostrils and lungs with each breath. There are few valid reasons for a person to be labelled as lucky in such circumstances. “I have lived here for many years and I have never seen them as bright as they are tonight,” he continued, referring to the extraordinary, natural light show taking place above our heads.

In Finnish, these Northern lights or Aurora Borealis are known as “revontulet” which literally translates to “fox fires.” The name originates from an old Finnish myth in which a magical fox creates the lights by sweeping his tail across the snow spraying it up into the sky. The notoriously elusive fox had, true to character, been in hiding the previous nights. There were regular false alarms and false hope. Our eyes, desperate to confirm our intense desire to experience the lights, played cruel tricks on us, re-imagining simple wisps of cloud for genuine sparks of light.

When the moment we had been waiting for eventually came, there was no mistaking what was happening. Excited screams broke the stillness of the night. We ran outside, down towards the lake, staring skywards. We stood with mouths open, eyes wide, gazing up at the brilliant green mass of light that had been conjured up from nothing. It danced and flowed gracefully across the sky, fading away and exploding back into life in a seamless mix of vibrant green, pink and white light. The sprinkling of light trickled down and coated all below in a warm blanket of wonder and contentment. I felt so small, so insignificant in the presence of nature’s pure power. Yet I was connected, to those around me, to nature, through this lucid dream come true. An intense, collective outpouring of emotion followed. Strangers laughed, cried, and danced with joy together as friends.

We would stay there, scanning the sky for any flicker of light until eventually the last green ember extinguished and our bodies screamed for warmth. Taking a final look at the dark, snow covered landscape, I thought of the lights as nature’s fitting consolation to those who struggle to survive in such an inhospitable climate.

Since that unforgettable night, I have spent countless hours hunting the fox, only to smile when I see some bright clouds, thinking back to how truly lucky I had been.