We are blessed to live in Canada, with four seasons. The season of autumn signals the beginning of turning inward. A time for dreaming and planning while cozy indoors for the winter months. But it doesn’t seem so enticing as the days are growing shorter and we are losing the time in daylight to wrap up the loose ends of summer. Why is it that we are so afraid to head into the darkness?
It is out of the darkest times that the most growth happens. it is in the darkness that we are at our edge. People don’t like to be pushed to their edge. That place within ourselves where we feel if we were to go any further we’d never find our way back. But if we keep back from our edges, we would be missing out on those places from which the most growth happens. For it is at the edge where two habitats intermingle and create something beautiful, abundant and new. It is at the edge of ourselves where old meets new. It is at this edge where the possibility of freedom exists. Where the pressures of labels and expectations can be blurred.
Heading into the winter months, I feel resistance. Although I am craving a slower time and rhythm, if it weren’t for the leaves falling and the looming frosts, I would not concede to more hours indoors, less light, and the abundant heap of clothing that adorns my entryway. Although I know winter brings with it a beauty unique to the cold darkness, it doesn’t help me stop resisting its presence. Likewise, it is difficult to make the choice to go into emotional darkness. It feels unsafe and not to be trusted. Why do we not trust ourselves enough to know we will come back out into the light?
We trust that spring will come again. We trust that the sun will rise again tomorrow. But we do not trust that we will again be happy if we choose to enter into periods of personal darkness. But like the seasons and the days, it will pass. Unlike natural cycles, our voyages into and out of darkness come without warning and recede without announcement. They ease in and out slowly, as to confuse us as to where it came from and when it left.
Perhaps it is because we have not been well equipped with the skills to weather the storm. We are not taught we can accept the deep and dark emotions. We are taught instead to keep everything under control. Our culture likes to pretend that everything is alright. We teach our children not to cry, saying ‘you’re alright’ to cherubim faces streaked with tears. We have been taught to not trust ourselves by having our forms of personal expression muzzled. We are schooled to believe that our interests aren’t as important as what the curriculum dictates. Every time our inner desires were redirected, we were given a the message that what we valued was not worthy, and our inner voice was not to be trusted. Think of the number of times we have received the message that what we feel doesn’t matter.
What can we do to regain the skills we need to trust ourselves? How can we learn to trust those times when we need to head into the darkness and towards our edge? Having had many experiences with sitting in darkness recently, I know that practice helps! Watching myself fall in and out of dark periods has been building my courage and confidence to accept the darkness when it comes. Framing my periods of darkness as storms that will blow over gives me the perspective I need sometimes. It has also shown me that the more I can accept and perhaps even embrace my dark emotions and welcome them in with self-compassion, the easier the storm will be to weather. When I am calm through the emotional turmoil, letting the waves of emotional burden crash upon a serene shoreline, the clouds blow over much quicker.
Knowing where to look for the light has also been something I use to come back from my edge. For me, I find light in small things. A smile on my child’s face, light dancing across the living room floor, the way the leaves flutter to the ground in the breeze, the sound and warmth of a crackling fire. When I am able to notice moments of natural beauty, it brings me back to the present moment. Presence brings me back. Finding my moments of light allows the darkness to fade and the sun to come out again.
“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.” — Haruki Murakami