In Praise of Darkness

Thankful Thursday 10:2

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.

Don’t I have to love darkness to love the light? Doesn’t it draw us closer together? Leaning in toward the candle, sharing a meal…

 

(I also give thanks for Andrea Guido’s spectacular photos, and to my Green String family, wherever you are…)

About these ads

About Melissa R Poulin

I'm a poet, writer, and educator. I edit Boneshaker: A Bicycling Almanac, and write content for creative entrepreneurs. Let me write about what you make and do, so that you can spend more time making and doing.
This entry was posted in Writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to In Praise of Darkness

  1. Sandy Thurlow says:

    I usually dread this time of year and resist the change to darkness. I tell myself it’s because my old eyes don’t see too well for driving in the dark. But this time I just gave it up … relaxed…and noticed how car tail lights and headlights radiate rainbow strands of light on the black velvet backdrop of the night. Marveled at the beauty (and light) present in the darkness. Relaxed and accepted it.

    Your paragraph on Not knowing … the pieces of yourself you hide is most insightful and true.

  2. Stephylou says:

    Your words are beautiful Melissa. What I would give to be able to express myself the way you do. Thinking of you, wishing you happiness always.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s