I grew up on a farm, far from any reflected (or refracted) light from any city - seven miles from a small town - fifty from the nearest city. It was dark at night - very dark. If the moon was behind clouds or just a sliver, the darkness was nearly complete. Yet chores had to be done. I still had to feed the chickens and the rabbits (the cows were gone by the time I was old enough to do chores). In the summer that was no problem but in the winter darkness descended early and I would be alone in the almost-complete darkness.
I learned a little trick to keep the darkness at bay. I whistled. It worked. When I whistled, it seemed as though someone else was there with me. The silence dispelled, I was no longer alone.
I've grown up now. I whistle when I am feeling good and when I am feeling down. I whistle when I am alone. I find that whistling reminds me of something essentially important in life - that we are never truly alone. Even if friends and family aren't with us, God is. The silence and the darkness hide the fact and bring fears. Whistling, for me, somehow assures me of God's presence and even though the darkness remains, I know that God is there - watching over me - protecting me - giving me courage to face whatever may be lurking in the dark.