They say that's how the light gets in
Allowing the darkness and reorienting towards the light
You could call me an optimist, I think most people do. For much of my life, I’ve looked for the light like my life depended on it. I believed the alternative would be to sink into the darkness and I was fairly certain I couldn’t handle that. As a survival tactic, this worked well. In times when darkness was present around me I made it my job to find the light, to see the good, to orient to the positive, and I’d hold on tight to it with both hands. But somewhere along the way, this led me to fear the darkness, to avoid discomfort, and by osmosis, to avoid the unknown. Avoiding discomfort and the unknown turned into a need to avoid feeling. To feel became unsafe and the more I tried not to feel, the more rigid I became and the more the darkness closed in around me.
I am an optimist. A light seeker. I orient to love, but I am also learning to allow space for the darkness, to build the muscle of knowing and trusting that I can journey there and still find my way back to the light. And I think there’s a certain kind of strength found in this pilgrimage into the depths if we can allow ourselves to open wide enough to go there, into the unknown. Maybe we even let a little more light in when we stretch the places that feel too dark to bare.
I wrote the following piece during a recent time that felt particularly dark, and uncomfortable. I thought I’d share it as a reminder that we all feel tied in knots sometimes like we might throw up. And, though those are usually the times when we feel most alone, perhaps it’s one of the most universal places we will find ourselves, and maybe it’s a little less lonely if we share the darkness more.
It’s an “I don’t want to write” kind of day
In an “I don’t want to write” kind of month.
My heart feels encased
In thick concrete laden in cracks.
They say that’s how the light gets in,
but all I can imagine is darkness.
What if it’s all a lie and really
I’m just a spec of meaningless dust
Floating through infinite space
Towards a finality of death?
They say this should bring me to life,
That nothing really matters,
It’s not that deep, just do it!
I take a deep breath.
The knots inside me tighten
And I feel like I could throw up.
It was easier not to breathe.
Was it easier or was it just familiar?
Like walking the same path toward suffering
Too afraid to venture into the unknown,
Unable to trust
That it leads to the light
You’ve lost hope in finding.
I close my eyes.
I let my breath return to shallow.
I wait for sleep.
Maybe tomorrow will be different.
Thank you to Kim and Jillian and the Blue Sky writing group for creating the space for this to find its way onto the page and into the light.
This Sunday I will have been a mother for six whole years and it feels especially strange to realize this when I often feel like a completely unqualified twelve-year-old accidentally inhabiting an adult’s body and being asked to make uncomfortably big life decisions.
Normalizing feeling terrified and excited and exhausted and grateful simultaneously in the spiral of this very busy season.
This song. On repeat with the volume all the way up while my kids and I sing to it at the top of our lungs.
You. Finding a lot of support in the knowing that we’re orbiting and navigating through this wild world together even when we seem so far away from one another.
Learning to let go of the urge to re-read and double-check everything in an endless attempt at perfection. Allowing space for the unedited, imperfect, rough edges of my being, spelling and grammatical errors and all. Welcoming and nurturing the unedited version of yours truly :)
I love love loved getting your replies and hearing about your worlds!
PLEASE write me back again! Did you experience the watery depths of the full moon this week? What stopped you in your tracks recently? What are you most looking forward to?
The full moon had me emptying out all my emotions and it felt cathartic (and exhausting) to let it all flow, but also didn’t feel like there was much else I could do!
The light on a recent walk. Watching my mom walk into the magical moment, my children on either side of her holding hands. Remembering that those are the moments I’m here for and how important it is to slow down for them.
We’re going to the coast this weekend and my heart is yearning for the moment I get to stand at the edge of the sea and take a deep breath in. Mmmm.
With endless love and deep gratitude,
Raina
www.findingstillness.one
@findingstillness.one
