Darkness

As we inch toward the Winter Solstice (for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere), I find myself thinking about darkness, about long dark nights, dark periods in our lives, the darkness within. And how these times of darkness can be profound times of introspection and perhaps growth.

Granted, I am not a winter person. Try as I might, do not embrace the romance of a walk on crisp freshly fallen snow or driving on slushy roads. I grew up in Southern California, where people would stay home and cancel the day’s plans after a rainstorm…why drive on slippery roads?

But I do appreciate what a proper winter offers—an invitation to go inside one’s heart. To let die what has run its course and plant seeds for what is to come. This is shadow work and it’s hard, and I often find myself channeling my reluctant inner-Southern California driver…why enter darkness?

I have come to find over the years that, as Melissa Febos writes, my darkness has become my work upon this earth. My darkness is not my inner critic; my darkness is a trusted ally, a beloved friend. My darkness shows me how to bring in more light.

My darkness reminds me that there is no day without night.