Good Night

Dear Longest Night, photo

I’m sad to see your darkness go for without it I don’t know how to find myself in the bright light of day that glares its way across my eyelids until, squinting, I see nothing but yellow pushing and shoving. Farewell dark healing womb that was stretching to hold me gently tightly securely in the womb of wisdom. Precious darkling, alas you will become less and less, fading sooner every morning into the hectic pace of speeding cars and intensive work that barely paused to recognize you while you were here by flooding homes and offices with false lights, by working long hours to ignore the decreasing daylight. Sad to see you go, my friend of endarkenment, before we’ve even had the abundance of hugging and holding hands and reflecting upon all that has happened, to create stories of transformation that embrace the light and dark in equal measure.

So many people bemoaned the day after summer solstice, fearful of the coming dark increasing shadows that crept longer and longer to peek around the edges of a well-lit life and say “ah ha, that’s where you’ve been hiding the really good stuff, the deep dark chocolate egg and the rebirth of soul into presence felt not seen.” I honor you, sweet darkness, for granting permission to go inside the cave and huddle close to unknown sensations and feelings burnt to ash, or lying as mirage upon the open desert floor, hot, shimmering. I give thanks, huddled under the blanket woven by nimble fingers of ancient grandmothers who sat easily in their rocking chairs by the banked hearth-fire allowing only a single coal to glow so as not to insult the wisdom whispers of womb and tomb. I’m sad to see you go without a proper acknowledgement, without the gratitude fully kissed upon your ebony cheeks by sweet recall into memories traced into labyrinthine passages snug and welcoming.

While others focus on the birth of greater light in a world already burning so bright it hurts my eyes and heart, I say grace to the depths of darkness that nurtures and sustains my very ground of being, that holds the streams of bloodline, that wraps taproots around my trembling soul infusing it with the sap of soma, the nectar of release and renewal. Farewell, deep well of knowing, as I let go my treasured friend to meet less frequently for a while, as I seek you eagerly upon the sleep of shortening nights blooming across the infinite sky.


Skotino Cave, Crete

Your sister Lumen grows bright upon your tired eyes and I love her, too, but she gets all the attention and praise while you are quickly set aside by lengthening days. Know, my dear friend of jet and coal and diamond in the rough, that I willingly abide within as often as I can meet you, I will, so that we continue our exploration and to heal without distractions seen all around. Upon your womb I will still rest and nourish at your breast within the cave at night and when I close my eyes, place hands cupped upon them, you are there again and I release my heart into the background of joy that you have always been and always will be, infinity, the black hole of all creation’s birth, the canal of rebirth through death.

Have we seen you enough? Have we honored you with heart and soul? Have we come to you with courage and gratitude? You are half the blessed cycle and yet … have we loved you equally?

Even as the sunlight warms my skin, I’m sad to see you go. Even as the orange tree stretches limbs up high, as do I, I’m sad to see you go. Within my heart, I hold the darkness softly, gently, with honor, as and for a desperately needed counter-balance to a world that often values the light in excess, I say grace for the amaranthine threads that wind their way into the divine depths of Gaia’s womb, the core of life, of soul.

Thank you, Good Night.

Thank you for sharing.

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