Walk in Sunlight

Over twenty years ago, after being away for a few years, I went home to visit my parents at Nanoose Bay on Vancouver Island, one of the most beautiful places on Earth. The weather was fabulous. Everyone was glad to see everyone else. Our family gathered for a final dinner in Nanaimo before I returned to Japan. My father ordered a small pizza, an unusual choice for him. He was flirty with the waitress, who shared her secret fondness for blueberry tea cocktails with us. It was a marvelous, happy evening.

After I returned to Japan, I went to my university to get organized for work. I got a phone call summoning me to the office. I wondered what mistake I had made. I often miss important details in the flood of Japanese documents flowing through my mailbox.

I hadn't made a mistake. I was being promoted to associate professor. I rushed to my office to call my parents and share the good news. I was sure my father would be proud of me. My mother answered the phone.

"Your father died this morning in his sleep," she said. And then she started to cry.

Over the next few days, I lived in a strange, uncomfortable place that I had not been before. Everything seemed watery and unreal as if I was swimming in murky liquid. It was hard to move. I hurt everywhere, though my bones were not broken. I hadn’t been aware of it, but sadness was slowly moving me to a difficult, dark place. I was spending more time at my computer at home and less time outside in the sun.

I noticed that things that would normally slightly upset me made me furious. Things that would usually make me sad affected me much more deeply. I sometimes teared up driving and had to pull over because I couldn’t see well enough to drive safely.

Then, while sitting in my dimly lit room looking at my computer, I read that a person spending too much time in front of a screen does not get enough sun. Being away from sunlight leads to severe depression. Even a bright computer screen is much darker than sunlight; it is essential to get outside into natural light. A small beam of imaginary sunlight went off in my head.

I was deeply depressed. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Moving was hard. Getting out of my chair. Walking to the door. Opening it. Going outside into the sun. Everything was hard.

If you are not depressed, what I am saying won't make sense. And when you need to remember this, your brain won't be working properly. Depression messes up your brain, so you can't think with it.

So, before that happens, go outside.

Just five minutes will do.

Every day.

What happened to me was miraculous. After a few days of walking in the sun, my mind cleared. The darkness receded just a bit. I was still sad, but I wasn't broken anymore.

I didn’t need to pull over anymore when I went driving.

Try to catch some rays now and then.

It might save your life.