As a child when I was all alone in darkness, my vivid imagination would conjure up heart-palpitating threats that lurked within shadows and lack-light. Now, as an adult, I occasionally feel the same. But the darkness I struggle with is often a different kind —sometimes an interior darkness that weighs down the spirit and feels like rocks placed upon me, an enveloping floundering and drowning, or simply a paralysis of fear and uncertainty.
Rarely is the darkness merely another sort of pleasant atmosphere to move in, as when one takes an evening walk under the stars.
Regardless of the types of darkness, I’ve realized there are two choices in dealing with it.
The first is to give in to the darkness. One can freeze, seize, or numb up in quiet terror of not knowing the whole picture. This reaction is understandable: it’s like a fight or flight response—the terror of the unknown clouds everything from clear view —who wouldn’t want to wait till the rosy dawn of life appears before continuing one’s path?
The second choice is to accept that darkness takes away one’s control of the whole picture. That being done, one becomes freer to take the next right step. With that acceptance and surrender, a lantern, burning with the reason WHY you do it, materializes in your hand. It doesn’t shine very brightly, but just enough to reveal the next step to take on the path. The reason why becomes a lamp shedding light on the path, one little bit at a time.
Regardless of the choice, the darkness will always be there. Like day and night, it’s guaranteed to be there just as much as the light, longer depending on the season. With acceptance, darkness becomes a constant companion on the path, another character to consider on the journey.
Sometimes it is hard to accept the darkness: to resist it leads to despair, suffocating ‘neath the despondency and heaviness of the blackness. When one despairs, one’s pilgrimage, adventure, fairy tale ends. The story becomes a tragedy when the character gives up doing the next right thing. The important thing is to press on, one courageous step at a time.
These sketches were made on sight in Petra, Jordan. We walked through complete darkness, guided by starlight and candlelight along the Siq, a narrow high canyon, and it opened up into a a natural piazza in front of the Treasury. Stars and candles mirrored each other as a Bedouin sang a soulful song to those all around.
When all is dark, it’s hard to keep to good habits. This book has been a lifesaver; it’s helped me stay on the path when I least feel like it. (Note: when you click the link below, I may receive a commission at no extra cost. Thanks for clicking! )
The story behind these reflections on darkness and light: The abrupt nightfalls of November, overhung by dreary, cold weather have always brought panic in my little sun-loving heart. Some of us struggle with the depressive blues that November and February often bring on top of our ordinary struggles. Inspired by the Danish concept of Hygge, I determined to prepare myself with ways to brighten the dark nights. This coincided with Advent, a preparation for the coming of the “Light of the World.” May these reflections of darkness and light cheer you on in your life’s journey.
Bridget Bryan 