Rich had always been drawn to simplicity. He lived in a small cabin on the edge of a dense forest, where the sounds of nature were his constant companions. One evening, after another long day of work under the sterile glow of fluorescent lights, he sat in his kitchen, staring at the soft, warm glow of a single candle on his table. The contrast was startling. It was then, in that moment of quiet reflection, that he made a decision: he would live without artificial light.

At first, it seemed like an impractical idea, a temporary experiment in self-denial. But the more Rich thought about it, the more it made sense. The artificial lights he had spent most of his life under felt harsh and intrusive, robbing him of a natural rhythm. He longed for the quiet, slow pace of a life governed by the rising and setting of the sun.

The next day, he removed all the light bulbs from his cabin. He gave away his lamps, covered his solar-powered outdoor lights, and unplugged anything that could cast a glow. When night fell, his home became cloaked in darkness, save for the flickering flame of a candle or the occasional glow of the moon filtering through the trees. He told himself that his body would adjust, that he would learn to sleep and wake in sync with the earth’s natural rhythm.

The first week was the hardest. Without the convenience of flipping on a switch, Rich found himself stumbling through his nighttime routine. He had to cook dinner earlier, often before sunset, and finish reading long before he normally would. With no light to prolong his evenings, he was forced into bed much earlier than usual. At first, he was frustrated by how much of his time was swallowed by darkness.

His relationships began to shift too. Friends stopped by less frequently, confused by his new lifestyle. At first, they tried to accommodate him, laughing off the inconvenience of dinners eaten before sundown or conversations held by candlelight. But as the weeks passed, some began to drift away, citing the impracticality of visiting someone who lived in the dark. The invitations to social gatherings under bright, buzzing lights were harder for Rich to accept too. He found himself retreating more and more into the solitude of his dimly lit home.

But despite the challenges, something else began to change. His body adjusted, just as he had hoped. Without the glare of artificial lights keeping him awake at night, he started falling asleep earlier, often with the rise of the moon. He woke naturally with the first rays of sunlight, refreshed in a way he hadn’t felt in years. His energy returned in slow waves, aligning with the daylight hours. Without the distraction of late-night scrolling or the lure of endless television shows, his mind grew quieter, more focused.

Rich found peace in the mornings, the soft light creeping over the horizon and filtering through the trees. He began to notice the world in ways he hadn’t before—the subtle shifts in color as day faded to dusk, the way shadows danced across his walls, the distinct phases of the moon. Nature’s cycles became his clock, his calendar.

His perspective on time also changed. Days no longer stretched endlessly into the night, broken by artificial light. Instead, they became finite, bound by the sun’s arc. He learned to do things slower, with more intention. Where he once rushed through his tasks, he now savored them, knowing he had only so many hours of daylight.

Surprisingly, his relationships, though fewer, grew deeper. The friends who still visited learned to appreciate the candlelit dinners and fireside conversations, drawn by the intimacy of shared moments without the interruption of screens or devices. These gatherings felt special, a reprieve from the hurried pace of modern life. Rich found himself connecting more genuinely with the people who chose to stay in his life, those who were willing to sit in the quiet dark with him.

Living without artificial light had affected him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. The simplicity of his days, once filled with the anxiety of constant activity, now felt like a gift. He felt more grounded, more connected to the natural world and to himself. What he had initially viewed as a sacrifice had become a new way of living, one that reminded him of the quiet beauty in the world around him.

In the end, Rich didn’t miss the artificial light. He didn’t miss the buzzing glow that once filled every corner of his life. He had found something deeper in the shadows, a way of being that allowed him to move through the world with more presence and peace. And as he sat in his cabin, watching the last flickers of a candle flame before sleep, he knew he had made the right choice.