Waiting In The Dark

There’s been an inversion in our valley for at least a week. The clouds hang low, the light is flat, the landscape drab, and the days feel dreary, a little depressing, and I can’t wait for it to get dark.

That’s because there is a difference between grey days and dark nights.

In my faith tradition this is the season of Advent. It is a time when we light candles in anticipation and preparation. It is a time of waiting in the darkness for the coming of the light.

In the story of that first holy night, a mother had been waiting too, anticipating the birth of her baby. A baby who must have arrived with all of the birth pains and the mess and the wonder that new life brings.

Darkness is an invitation to wait for the light, and to anticipate the birth of something new. With all of the birth pains and mess and wonder that new life brings.

Dancing In The Dark

We take a nightly walk down our road before crawling into bed, and the sky never disappoints.

Pitch black and heavy with clouds, it is a reminder that we rarely, if ever, see the whole picture. That our view is always obscured by our own experience.

A sky filled with stars lulls us into believing that we do see the whole picture. So captivated by their light, we forget that the stars we are looking at may no longer exist.

And occasionally we are treated to the biggest news of all. That it all belongs. The darkness and the light. Dance partners, both are necessary, and only made visible because of the other.

These are difficult times. Perhaps they have always been, but right now, these are our hard times. Darkness and fear loom over the future. In the world. In the news. In our hearts. And most of us have no idea what to do with all of that fear and all of that darkness.

A walk in the night might be a good start.

Photo: Tom Pierson-the light of my life

Delores's Delight

…I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so there is really only one logical conclusion. I need darkness as much as I need light.

~ Barbara Brown Taylor - Learning To Walk In The Dark

It’s called Delores’s Delight.

The favorite dessert of my childhood, I dusted off the recipe card today and made a big batch of it for the first time in years. If I had to choose a final meal before leaving the planet, this dessert would be on the menu. While others in my family wanted cake for their birthday, I only wanted this, and if you decide to make a batch, you’ll probably know why.

Growing up, the best part about it wasn’t the first piece after dinner, delicious as it was. It was waking up in the middle of the night, sneaking into the kitchen and finding my dad there too. In the dark we would cut two more pieces and savor every bite before heading back to bed. Somehow it tasted even better in the shadow filled kitchen than the light filled dining room.

When it comes to this delectable dessert, it is the crushed dark chocolate cookies layered on the bottom and sprinkled over the top that help hold it all together and set off the flavor of the sweet, rich center. In our lives, the dark, the shadow parts of ourselves that we have been courageous enough to explore and come to know as intimately as the rest, are layered with the light, and are key ingredients in what it means to be a whole human being.

Delore’s Delight is a combination of the dark and the light, just like my relationship with my dad. And a lot like real life when it comes right down to it. In order for our lives to be authentic, wholehearted and real, we must incorporate the dark with the light in order to cook up a whole life. One without the other just doesn’t cut it.

The Dark Night

“The first fingers of light appear on the horizon, and ever so deftly and gradually, they pull the mantle of darkness away from the world.”

John O’Donohue - Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

There are times when life so overwhelms us with grief, pain, fear, and loss that we don’t think we will survive. Some do not, and there is no room for judgement or criticism, only mercy and compassion. I have not inhabited their hearts, only my own, and the only reference I have is my own experience of being plunged into darkness, not knowing when even the faintest glimmer of light will appear.

In those dark nights, we are alone with our own hearts. No matter how much love and support we have surrounding us, no one can make our way for us as we wait for the light to appear. Others may walk with us, but they cannot walk for us. Others may help us bear our burden, but ultimately it is ours to carry. But the treasures of our darkness belong to us. Whatever we discover in the blackness of our night has the capacity to transform us in ways only possible when we have found our way to the dawn of our new day.

In the darkness, while we find ourselves alone, we would do well to remember that we bring with us all of our hard earned resources. Any strength, wisdom, faith, grace, and love that we have accumulated thus far will be our faithful companions, and will sustain us through the night. In her book, Learning To Walk in the Dark, Barbara Brown Taylor says, “…I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so that there is really on one logical conclusion. I need darkness as much as I need light.”

I’ve often wondered if the power that brought the world into being knew that we would need to find hope for a return of the light on a daily basis. That there is a deeper meaning behind the daily cloaking of the world in darkness, so that once again, we can be reminded of the illuminating light that is sure to follow.

Light For Dark Times

Years ago my dear friend Kristine and I were to lead a weekend retreat in the wine country of Northern California. The event fell through at the last minute, but the retreat we’d planned is still in my files. Today I pulled it up and revisited the message we had hoped to give all those years ago.

The words below, from Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, were ones we were going to read aloud on the last day, but we never got the chance.

I invite you to read them aloud today to all who would listen.

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My friends…do not lose heart. We were made for these times. I have heard from so many recently who are deeply and properly bewildered. They are concerned about the state of affairs in our world now. Ours is a time of almost daily astonishment and often righteous rage over the latest degradations of what matters most to civilized, visionary people. 

In any dark time, there is a tendency to veer toward fainting over how much is wrong or un-mended in the world. Do not focus on that. There is a tendency, too, to fall into being weakened by dwelling on what is outside your reach, by what cannot yet be. Do not focus there. That is spending the wind without raising the sails. We are needed, that is all we can know. And though we meet resistance, we more so will meet great souls who will hail us, love us and guide us, and we will know them when they appear. Didn't you say you were a believer? Didn't you say you pledged to listen to a voice greater? Didn't you ask for grace? Don't you remember that to be in grace means to submit to the voice greater?

Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist some portion of this poor suffering world, will help immensely. It is not given to us to know which acts or by whom, will cause the critical mass to tip toward an enduring good. What is needed for dramatic change is an accumulation of acts, adding, adding to, adding more, and continuing. We know that it does not take everyone on Earth to bring justice and peace, but only a small, determined group who will not give up during the first, second, or hundredth gale. 

One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these—to be fierce and to show mercy toward others; both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.

Photo: Tom Pierson