Last night I went to Peace Mass, a simple midweek Eucharist at St David’s. There were only a few of us gathered in the chapel, and when it was time for prayers of thanksgiving, I found myself giving thanks for darkness.
“Really?” asked my neighbor, as though baffled.
I meant the changing of the light- Sunday ended Daylight Saving time and all week we’ve been feeling the abrupt shove toward winter. I meant the hushed, watchful feeling we seem to get when this happens, heads bent and hurrying home after work, like birds frantic toward the nest.
I meant the darkness of this season, my season, January-born and at home in the creative reflection and introspection of the darker half of the year. This is new moon energy, waning toward doubt so that there can be waxing again, the full moon of clarity, epiphany.
But there’s more, of course, to be thankful for in darkness.
Not knowing. Questioning. Questions upon questions upon questions. Murkiness. Mystery. The strange and porridgey unknown. The pieces of yourself you hide. The parts of the story you skim. The aspects of humanity you deny. The places in the world you ignore. Shadow side. Flip side. Skipped side.
Yeah. Darkness. Really.
(I also give thanks for Andrea Guido’s spectacular photos, and to my Green String family, wherever you are…)