Happy Chanukah!

Wait. What? I mean, yeah it’s Chanukah and thanks for the wishes, but like, isn’t this out of character? Wait, who is this? What happened to The Sour Milk?

I can explain.

But first, yes, it’s still me. I’m still weird. I’m still a writer. And my writing is still sour.

Chanukah is an interesting time of year—there’s donuts, latkes, chocolate coins, dreidels and candles. So essentially it’s about gaining weight and lighting candles for 8 days—seemingly a very physical holiday. But it actually began with the Greeks attempt to remove the Jewish spirit. The Jews fought not to preserve their physical survival, but their spiritual survival. So there should be more emphasis on a spiritual connection during Chanukah than a caloric connection, right? (Maybe not, we’re Jews after all = “they tried to kill us, let’s eat!”)

I’ve got some health goals I’m working towards, so even though food has a spiritual connection—because calories provide energy to serve God etc, I’m steering clear of the delicious offerings this year. So instead, I’m focusing solely on the candles—which provide both physical and spiritual light.

Light, both in its physical and metaphysical forms, stands as a profound metaphor for the human struggle against chaos and despair. Darkness is not merely the absence of light—it is the presence of the unknown, the chaotic, the overwhelming abyss that threatens to consume us when we lose our bearings. To bring light into that darkness is to confront the void with courage, to impose order where none exists, and to carve out a space for meaning amidst the encroaching shadows.

Spiritually, light is a symbol of truth, awareness, and the eternal battle against ignorance and malevolence. It signifies the illumination of the soul—an awakening that allows us to see the world not as a place of blind suffering but as a domain where meaning can emerge. The light is not gentle; it pierces, reveals, and often burns away illusions, leaving behind clarity and truth.

In a broader sense, light cutting through the darkness is the human journey itself. It is the act of rising from despair, of daring to hope and create, even when the forces of entropy and suffering seem insurmountable. This is why we are drawn to the image of a single candle in a dark room. It symbolizes the fragile yet resolute spark of order and purpose that we each carry within us—a spark that, if nurtured, can blaze forth to illuminate not just our path but the paths of others.

To bring light into the darkness requires us to confront our fears, to bear the weight of suffering, and to strive for a higher good. In doing so, we not only push back the shadows around us but also kindle the flames of meaning, connection, and hope.

Introspection has seemed to flow more abundantly of recent. I’ve also neglected replacing a phone that’s been freezing, so my internet distractions have been more limited as a consequence. But in embracing the flow of introspection and the light of Chanukah, I’m left with a place of being that’s different to any other place of the past. I’ve always thought I was living to find out who I am, but with my 40th birthday a month away, I’m seeing that the first 40 years was more about finding out who I’m not. As Carl Jung says: “Life really does begin at forty. Up until then, you are just doing research.”

So what does this all mean in relation to The Sour Milk? An evolution is taking place. It’s my hope that everyone who’s supported my writing journey thus far will continue into the dark with me, curious about what the light will illuminate.