This illuminating dark

I was thankful this morning for the illumination of darkness; for it is so, sometimes.

Darkness lights the path.

I don’t wish to make darkness my teacher, because that isn’t quite the relationship.

Though maybe it is, and I protest too much, for despite the absence of a mortar board and chalk, it does reveal a great deal.

And what it reveals is old patterns of reaction inside me which perhaps I thought I’d left behind.

When the darkness comes, in whatever form, and security and hope seem to leave, in the vacuum – old voices appear.

I sort-of know they are lies, we’ve spoken with each other in the past.

Yet in the darkness, these old voices are loud and they are strong; they invite me to trust them as quietly – or sometimes noisily – they ransack my home.

Darkness illumines as the old voices return. I see them again, in all their useless power.

Perhaps I imagined them gone, thought myself super-well, but life isn’t quite like that.

Things do hang around beneath old sacks in our psyche.

But caught in the brightness of the dark; caught like dismal thieves in a search light, I see them now.

I see them.

And choose, on this occasion, not to listen. Instead, I go for a walk and feel my feet in the snow.

It’s a way back to the light.

Leave a Reply