The Darkness and the Light

I had intended to write about the Fluid Body this month, but over the last week or so it’s been the theme of Light and Dark that has been calling me, as we approach the darkest day and longest night of the year (for those of us in the northern hemisphere) - followed by the return of the Light, that precious moment when we can look forwards with anticipation and perhaps renewed hope.

Then, just as I was about to start writing, I heard the news about another horrific attack, this time on a thousand or more Jews who had gathered on Bondi Beach, Australia to celebrate the beginning of Hanukkah - the lighting of the first candle, the collective honouring of the Light. Families, children, celebrating life.

What can we make of this? Another horror, more death and darkness piercing into the space where Light was to be welcomed. More unnecessary deaths of the innocent adding to the tens of thousands of Palestinian deaths over the last two years, and the many others around the globe. The destruction of human life by other humans, whatever their reason, race, religion, political views, or social circumstances, is abhorrent to most of us. Yet the dark always finds ways to seep or tear through the fabric of our lives and our consciousness. And violence ricochets back and forth, in this case between the Jews and Palestinians for decades.

Holding both Light and Dark

Learning to hold both the Light and the Dark is not easy, but it is an essential part of our learning journey as we grow older. One of the skills of elderhood. For most of my younger life I would swing from one to the other – when in the dark, that was all I could see and feel; happiness, joy, ease, freedom, light felt totally out of reach, seemingly forever. And when filled with joy, love, peace, happiness, for a moment I could feel that I had reached some exalted place, overcome the shadows within and around me. Then just as quickly it could all switch back to darkness again. Do you recognize this in yourself, the pendulum swinging between the Light and the Dark? We know this rhythm from the alternations between day and night, summer and winter, growth and decay, so maybe it is inevitable that we live on this rollercoaster ride for much of the time.

peterschreiber.media via istockphoto.com

Now I am gradually learning to embrace both Light and Dark, doing my best to keep them in relationship with each other, like a bright moon in the dark night sky, or heavy clouds obscuring the sun and clear blue. The Yin and the Yang, each embedded within the heart of the other. I remember a talk by the Dalai Lama in London, many years ago, when he spoke of the sun still shining brightly behind the clouds, the sky above as blue as on a clear day – we just don’t see it, but if we remember it is there we might feel less oppressed by the dark clouds, less fearful they will always be there. He used this analogy to highlight the shadows in our minds and hearts, which obscure Pure Mind – the clear mind and the obscurations are both there, simultaneously, all the time. We just need to see the clouds for what they truly are.

Our world right now, including our human collective consciousness, is full of dark clouds, menace, violent storms, dangerous and overpowering floods, fire and fury. But we know that is not all. The Light is ever present too.

Beauty and Suffering

I grapple with the reality of having the privilege of living in a relatively peaceful, abundant and beautiful part of the world, while others are going through devastating suffering, loss, pain. It can feel like two alternative realities, two separate worlds; we seem to be such a divided collective-self, without adequate tools to bring the fractured parts back into relationship. But we are learning - there are many teachers in the world to guide us.

Feeling guilt about living amongst beauty while others are suffering so much is not helpful. We need beauty to nourish our souls, just as we need oxygen, food and water to nourish the body. It’s essential, not a luxury. It’s through beauty that we are able to bear the pain and suffering in the world, and within ourselves. I’m remembering the powerful novel, The Beekeeper of Aleppo by Christy Lefteri, describing the danger and trauma faced by a Syrian couple who had fled their war-torn country and were seeking safety as refugees. In one moving scene it is the presence of a solitary bee in an otherwise bleak place, a little messenger from a brighter world, that enables the main character of the story to keep on enduring beyond the unendurable. (Do read this beautiful book if you haven’t already, or give it to someone you know who questions the rights of refugees fleeing conflict.)

We need beauty to sustain us – the gifts of nature that are all around us; the treasures found in art, music, stories, dance; the beauty within people, ourselves and others, when expressing from their authentic source. I am sure you will have your own sources of beauty that nourish and sustain you. Visit them often.

Hope and Despair

This coupling also needs careful navigating in these very troubled and increasingly dangerous times. I can walk in the woods or by the sea, or sit in my garden enjoying the beauty of Nature. I witness the people who come to practise Authentic Movement with me and am moved by the beauty I see in them, and the wisdom that unfolds through their embodied practice. I feel the joy in my little great-nephews as they play and learn and grow. I can reflect on the bigger picture, for example the astrology of our times (that I wrote about in an earlier post), which describes the birth of the New Era we are now entering. Or I may witness an act of simple kindness or bold courage. And I feel hope.

Then I read or watch some event in the news that fills me with rage or outrage or fear, and the impossibility of successfully making this transition into the New overwhelms me. I fall into something close to despair. I know it’s not helpful to stay there, but I do need to acknowledge it.

I want to keep hope alive. It feels essential to keep remembering that the sun still shines beyond the clouds, no matter how dark and dense those clouds may seem. There is Light within the Darkness.

I take one step after another, noticing the ‘small islands of pleasure and joy’ where they appear, and hoping I can stay strong enough to keep holding in my heart the pain of those who are suffering so much, as well as my own pain when it arrives.

Zen teacher Thich Nhat Hanh taught the importance of nurturing the seeds of positive thoughts and feelings, such as love and beauty and kindness, so that they can grow within us, and in the world. When we dwell too much on the negative thoughts and feelings - the anger, fear, hatred – we feed them and they will grow, as they are doing so rampantly in much of the world today.

‘Sweet Darkness’ and Blinding Light

Whilst it might feel natural to veer towards an interpretation of Light and Dark as something akin to good and bad, this is clearly not the only way to look at them. There are other perspectives that can help with the juggling act of integration that we need to do.

I borrow David Whyte’s phrase ‘Sweet Darkness’, the title of a poem I like to return to at this time of year. There is a time and place for rest and retreat, for snuggling in front of a fire on a cold winter evening, for closing the eyes, a time for dreaming, restoring and germinating the seeds of what is yet to come. Darkness, and the long months of winter, hold space for comfort and resting into our interiority where we can regenerate and prepare for our next outward movements.

Light can have brutal aspects too. We speak of light that is penetrating, blinding, sharp; it might reveal truths we would rather not see. There is lightning which, though necessary and often awesome, can also be lethal. And we know that excessive heat and radiation from the sun can have damaging effects on us and on the planet.

In “Servants of the Sacred Dream” I wrote about the process I named ‘endarkenment’, which we are called to embrace on the path towards ‘enlightenment’. Through the heart of darkness we eventually find light again. We cannot have one without the other – Light and Dark are the alternating sides of one whole. When we seek healing of the rifts within ourselves and within the collective, we are seeking wholeness, a wider embrace. The dance between the Darkness and the Light invites us into that embrace.

In the centre, winter flowering cherry - Prunus Autumnalis

Solstice Greetings

I end with warm wishes to each of you for the Winter Solstice (or Summer Solstice if you are in the southern hemisphere). May you navigate the descent with ease and grace, find rest and comfort, and return with new inspiration and energy for the year ahead. And of course Christmas and New Year greetings come with this, all part of the midwinter celebrations of the journey to the heart of Darkness and the returning of the Light.

Thank you for reading. Be well,

Linda