I often quote the great Barry Lopez about 'going to where there is life'. That is how you build community, stay open, invest in generosity and Spirit. Today, i was slapped on the back of the head by "To go in the dark with a light is to know the light." The darkness has lessons to impart without light interrupting its unbrokenness.
It has been said that the dark night of the soul that John of the Cross beautifully writes is actually a light so bright it appears as darkness. I like that. But today I appreciated the sense of an absence of light, the full weight of darkness, calling upon language of emptiness. There was no equating it with despair, but the open feeling of standing beneath a night sky. I felt small in a vastness. Yet knowing i am small in a vastness kept me connected. I felt the invitation to be humble on a path of darkness, of unsightedness as trustworthy insight. A trust is indeed required. In a spot of life seeking to control a few outcomes (always a temptation), but to go dark is to trust in the Mystery that yields a releasement. So here i sit, listening to the dark "bloom and sing".
I first heard this poem at the close of a Tenebre service in 2015. I include it in the version of Tenebre that I offer on Wednesday in Holy Week. So it was a delight to read, chew, pray, and listen for my "so that..." in a different context and liturgical season, and season of Creation (for those of us in the northern hemisphere the darkness is about as long as it can be). I've been wrestling with the metaphors of darkness and light this Advent, privately and publicly (and reminding there are also dawn and dusk - transition times that disrupt the binary).
I was drawn to the imperative, "go dark" - and that's what I've been trying to do since returning from my desert retreat. Berry supports my current experience that the dark, and darkness, and perhaps the accompanying silence are not evil, and to be avoided, from which to be protected. "Go dark." Go sightless, and experience the blooming and singing and the other elements of Creation that journey there with me. Here are Peace, Hope, Joy and Love.
The Divine responds to the longing (hollering) of my heart with Love. When I (Mr. Busy) go dark, I am nurtured by Love. My heart and voice then sing of the living Love that flows and is present for all. I am enkindled to burn and glow with the Divine Triune: The Name of Love, The Power of Love, The Glory of Love. That's what I know in the Dark.
PS - it was deeply connecting to know I was in this practice with 26 (and more who practiced later) others. Community dispersed and practicing together! Huzzah! To know, in the dark, that others are there - with me always.
Thank you, Bill. This poem can shape shift, no? 'Go dark' is such a strong directive. It rattles about. Glad to hear your desert retreat is being carried with you still. Pretty wonderful to be sitting in practice with 26 folks around the way and others who practice later, as one monastic writer cheekily says 'wasting time' in a lectio practice. Not doing much, but unfolding an interior world with the Beloved.
I know the dark feet as my blind grandfather made his fortune in the bedding plant business. He could tell the difference between a weed and a desired plant. Dark wings on the other hand is a picture of flying with guidance and trust.
Many words as I've said trigger music in my mind; check out:
"Bad to Me" Billy J. Kramer (1963)
On your family tree may be Della Swanson about 100 years ago, my wifes grandmothers best friend. About 10 miles north of Eztikom, just north of the 40 Mile Coulee. All south east Alberta. Husband and son, Charlie (maybe Gunnar) and Jerry (Marvin Jerome) respectively.
Thank you, Paul, for your time this morning. I just got hearing aids and heard some clicking from your house that sounded like duplo blocks being manipulated. I thought I need to get these aids adjusted! I was happy to hear your son joined us! I, too, had a visitor, two year old granddaughter, Wisdom, came in and called my name. She can open the doors now at her house and mine (I live behind her). She must’ve saw my eyes closed and left. God’s presence in the flesh, right? We’re blessed.
I heard the clicking and popping, too, and the heat was coming up in the baseboards at my house, and I imagined it to be doing the same for Paul - which helped me be "in the same space" in a way.
And you are right too, Bill. we have crickety old floor heaters that bang about. They were making themselves known this morning. My heater is your heater.
Yes, Margie! my son who rarely beats the sun up these days decided he wanted to play next to the Christmas tree. A lesson in God's presence in the flesh indeed. i love hearing that your granddaughter joined in with her own call to prayer. These little ones offer the immediacy of incarnational chutzpah!
thank you! first time at Lo-Fi and hushed. Wasn't sure if I was supposed to click the "request live call in" button, so just listened and meditated. As always, difficult to focus but still worthwhile.
Every time I am called to meditate on darkness, I begin with this thought: We say that the stars come out at night, and go away with the morning, but the truth is, they are always there. When the sun is in the sky, my limits are the atmosphere of this beautiful planet. When the earth turns so that the sun gets to bless the other side of the world, I can potentially see to the limits of the visible and somewhat known universe (atmospheric conditions permitting, I am NOT in a nice desert where this is a sure thing) Where I live, the earth sleeps in the dark from the winter solstice to spring equinox, approximately. But all sorts of things go on under the earth and snow. So, darkness expands my horizons immensely, darkness allows for hidden growth.
I would like to add that this time happens to work well for me. I am retired, living with my daughter and her family. Here northeast of Maine , this starts at 9am, after my grandchildren are at school.
Blessings and thank you. Am considering a paid subscription.
This is beautiful and spot on. The hidden work of contemplation is always composting in secret, regenerating life Thank you for being a part of the practice! And the 'request live call in' that is like calling into a radio show, so you were good to go in the way you approached the practice! Thanks again for sharing, Julia, and for your presence.
I often quote the great Barry Lopez about 'going to where there is life'. That is how you build community, stay open, invest in generosity and Spirit. Today, i was slapped on the back of the head by "To go in the dark with a light is to know the light." The darkness has lessons to impart without light interrupting its unbrokenness.
It has been said that the dark night of the soul that John of the Cross beautifully writes is actually a light so bright it appears as darkness. I like that. But today I appreciated the sense of an absence of light, the full weight of darkness, calling upon language of emptiness. There was no equating it with despair, but the open feeling of standing beneath a night sky. I felt small in a vastness. Yet knowing i am small in a vastness kept me connected. I felt the invitation to be humble on a path of darkness, of unsightedness as trustworthy insight. A trust is indeed required. In a spot of life seeking to control a few outcomes (always a temptation), but to go dark is to trust in the Mystery that yields a releasement. So here i sit, listening to the dark "bloom and sing".
I first heard this poem at the close of a Tenebre service in 2015. I include it in the version of Tenebre that I offer on Wednesday in Holy Week. So it was a delight to read, chew, pray, and listen for my "so that..." in a different context and liturgical season, and season of Creation (for those of us in the northern hemisphere the darkness is about as long as it can be). I've been wrestling with the metaphors of darkness and light this Advent, privately and publicly (and reminding there are also dawn and dusk - transition times that disrupt the binary).
I was drawn to the imperative, "go dark" - and that's what I've been trying to do since returning from my desert retreat. Berry supports my current experience that the dark, and darkness, and perhaps the accompanying silence are not evil, and to be avoided, from which to be protected. "Go dark." Go sightless, and experience the blooming and singing and the other elements of Creation that journey there with me. Here are Peace, Hope, Joy and Love.
The Divine responds to the longing (hollering) of my heart with Love. When I (Mr. Busy) go dark, I am nurtured by Love. My heart and voice then sing of the living Love that flows and is present for all. I am enkindled to burn and glow with the Divine Triune: The Name of Love, The Power of Love, The Glory of Love. That's what I know in the Dark.
PS - it was deeply connecting to know I was in this practice with 26 (and more who practiced later) others. Community dispersed and practicing together! Huzzah! To know, in the dark, that others are there - with me always.
Thank you, Bill. This poem can shape shift, no? 'Go dark' is such a strong directive. It rattles about. Glad to hear your desert retreat is being carried with you still. Pretty wonderful to be sitting in practice with 26 folks around the way and others who practice later, as one monastic writer cheekily says 'wasting time' in a lectio practice. Not doing much, but unfolding an interior world with the Beloved.
Hey Paul
I know the dark feet as my blind grandfather made his fortune in the bedding plant business. He could tell the difference between a weed and a desired plant. Dark wings on the other hand is a picture of flying with guidance and trust.
Many words as I've said trigger music in my mind; check out:
"Bad to Me" Billy J. Kramer (1963)
On your family tree may be Della Swanson about 100 years ago, my wifes grandmothers best friend. About 10 miles north of Eztikom, just north of the 40 Mile Coulee. All south east Alberta. Husband and son, Charlie (maybe Gunnar) and Jerry (Marvin Jerome) respectively.
Thanks John, images abound in your reflection.
Sadly no Della in my ancestry that I know of you...but perhaps a distant connection back there for all the Scandinavian connects.
Thank you, Paul, for your time this morning. I just got hearing aids and heard some clicking from your house that sounded like duplo blocks being manipulated. I thought I need to get these aids adjusted! I was happy to hear your son joined us! I, too, had a visitor, two year old granddaughter, Wisdom, came in and called my name. She can open the doors now at her house and mine (I live behind her). She must’ve saw my eyes closed and left. God’s presence in the flesh, right? We’re blessed.
I heard the clicking and popping, too, and the heat was coming up in the baseboards at my house, and I imagined it to be doing the same for Paul - which helped me be "in the same space" in a way.
And you are right too, Bill. we have crickety old floor heaters that bang about. They were making themselves known this morning. My heater is your heater.
Yes, Margie! my son who rarely beats the sun up these days decided he wanted to play next to the Christmas tree. A lesson in God's presence in the flesh indeed. i love hearing that your granddaughter joined in with her own call to prayer. These little ones offer the immediacy of incarnational chutzpah!
thank you! first time at Lo-Fi and hushed. Wasn't sure if I was supposed to click the "request live call in" button, so just listened and meditated. As always, difficult to focus but still worthwhile.
Every time I am called to meditate on darkness, I begin with this thought: We say that the stars come out at night, and go away with the morning, but the truth is, they are always there. When the sun is in the sky, my limits are the atmosphere of this beautiful planet. When the earth turns so that the sun gets to bless the other side of the world, I can potentially see to the limits of the visible and somewhat known universe (atmospheric conditions permitting, I am NOT in a nice desert where this is a sure thing) Where I live, the earth sleeps in the dark from the winter solstice to spring equinox, approximately. But all sorts of things go on under the earth and snow. So, darkness expands my horizons immensely, darkness allows for hidden growth.
I would like to add that this time happens to work well for me. I am retired, living with my daughter and her family. Here northeast of Maine , this starts at 9am, after my grandchildren are at school.
Blessings and thank you. Am considering a paid subscription.
This is beautiful and spot on. The hidden work of contemplation is always composting in secret, regenerating life Thank you for being a part of the practice! And the 'request live call in' that is like calling into a radio show, so you were good to go in the way you approached the practice! Thanks again for sharing, Julia, and for your presence.
"the stars are always there" - like the community of this Contemplify practice, no matter where we are, we are there, bidden and unbidden, Love is.
Is there a recording? I am retired and not up at 6 a.m.
Hi Nancy, totally get it. There will be an audio recording added to the substack post. I typically am able to get it posted before 8am MT.