There are radiant gems in the dark of the night. It is in those places farthest from the city, where the night falls dead against your eyes, that the stars are the brightest. It is the emptiest, hollowest night that wraps Her thickest blanket of milky way around you. There are stars whose names you can learn the names of here. And one day you’ll be resting back to earth, face to moon and you’ll call out their names, as if they are brothers and sisters you’ve known since before you were conceived.
But this is not why it’s important to love the dark.
There is a way the water shines under the night sky. It turns black and the floor drops out. Oceans get deeper during the night. If you swim in the night in some of the lakes in the deep north of Minnesota, you’ll dive down and there will be no bottom. There is endless depth. You could swim and swim, and never reach those stars.
This is also not why it’s important to love the dark.
There is a hearing world that widens into each direction when night comes. Our ears take in planets, swirling galaxies, the breath of a squirrel parked in a tree, a thousand miles away. We can hear the heartbeat of our lover in the next room with our eyes closed. And only when the sky is it’s sheerest black, can we hear all the laughter and cries we have made and will ever make. Under nights whose dark, broad wings crash silently around us, we can hear the path our lives have taken, and will take. It is a sound like empty tunnels.
This is still not why it’s important to love the dark.
It is important to love the dark because She holds all our secrets. The ones we have told, haven’t told, will tell, will never tell. It is important to love the dark because you have to tell your secrets to someone. The thick black mucous must rise and be spat out. It is important to love the dark because She will free you. If you tell her what you’ve been carrying she will take it from you. She will unclip your wings and let you soar into an endless sky. A heart is heavy that carries too many secrets, too many unlived lives, too many tales of heart break. Tell them to the dark, the night.
As we move towards the darkest day of the year, the Winter Solstice, we cozy up with dark. We let her have us. We let her give us wings. The returning light will come. The days will begin to lengthen and we will have our light. But power comes from loving the dark. Power to love, power to grow, power to stand up and live.
I’ll tell you why I love the dark. Because my body has crashed against her so many times, I am so full of cracks, there are fewer and fewer places in me that have not been cracked open, fewer places where the light cannot enter. This feels good. it feels soft and loving. I love the dark because when I spiral into Her, She always has secrets for me. She has wisdom for me, fuel for my life. I move inward to know who I am. I move inward to know what dreams my Soul still holds unlived. I love the dark because I”m not interested in shallow living. I want a life deep and rich and full. I want to know every dream etched on my heart, even the ones tucked away in tiny corners.
I love the dark because it is the greatest, deep well of my life. Dipping into the peace, the calm, the void of Her arms has left me breathless, connected, and loved so so so many times.
My current offering, the Illumination eCourse is designed for you to meet the gifts of the dark this holiday season: wisdom, peace, self-knowledge, self-illumination. These are tools I’ve been working with for a very, very long time. Won’t you join me?
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