Descending into the Shadows
While visiting in Sedona, Arizona, we found a nice patch of dirt road near Bell Rock. The evenings on that highway didn’t see much traffic as the nightlife –by city standards—is nonexistent. But nature’s nighttime show had already started. All we needed to do was switch off the headlights of our car, plunging us into a pitch black blanket of darkness. Until we looked up. What seemed like millions –billions, even!—of stars dotted the night sky. It was breathtaking to say the least.
Those are the moments I long for, trying to see this natural expanse of dark and light that no city skyline can imitate. It’s a fleeting reminder of our smallness in this vast, immeasurable universe, that nature, no matter how hard we try, continues to elude us, generating spiritual wonderment and connectedness.
That was in 2014.
Almost 7 years later, my view of this inky black canopy with its twinkling lights has evolved. As I write this, the world is approaching a year of going through a pandemic. Although my view of the night sky continues to bring me joy and awe, it’s also laced with existential anxiety and a heavy, treading dysphoria. The deeply traumatic shadows cast by the pandemic, natural disasters and the multitude of social injustices plaguing our communities have formed a weighted cloak that we drag around all day, sometimes with a smile on our faces (because what else are we going to do?) and at times, allowing a watershed of tears, anger and fear to punctuate these weeks that seem to last forever but go by in a flash.
But what the night sky shows is that the darkness also consists of bright spots in an otherwise foreboding landscape –the relationships that have deepened within communities, the rise of compassion for the Earth and for our relatives, the activism sparked by Warrior energy that has kept the collective above water. We can’t know light without darkness. This seemingly endless night is so real and tangible to us because we know how lightness feels. And for many reasons, the universe, God, Mother Nature, Creator, felt we needed to sit with our shadows for a while.
I’ve been wanting to begin, truly begin (I’ve had several false starts) this journal for over a year now, but couldn’t seem to find a good place to start. These winter months, the season of hibernation, has given me the space and time to pause and reflect on when this written journey is meant to come into being.
I know it may seem odd to begin at a point of destruction, but what better time than now to write that first journal entry? Because people naturally come to me for guidance when they are wrestling with shadows. I’ve definitely been there, navigating the darker recesses of my mind and soul and feeling utterly lost. But over time, I’ve actually come to really cherish those darker moments. I’ve found a way to step back from the chaos and despair, read between the lines and find the lessons buried within.
So while it feels like a counterintuitive way of looking for hope in dark times, it can be incredibly effective medicine. Instead of resisting the darkness, let’s lean into it a little bit.
One day at a time.
If you are enjoying this virtual exploration, I invite you to
