Treasures of the Darkness Guided Meditation
If I’m being honest, I never made it past the darkness of Saturday of Holy Week this year. My friend Rebecca passed away 9 months ago and Easter came 3 weeks after that. I sat there on Easter morning surrounded by a community of freshly grieving friends and we couldn’t pretend like we felt any Easter triumph in our hearts. As I read through the gospel accounts of the crucifixion, I was struck by the dark emotions I found there. In the Garden of Gesthemane, Jesus’ disciples were “drugged by grief.” I understand that feeling.
The season of Spring felt so incongruous with my grief process. I internally referred to this summer as “the Summer she wasn’t here”–her absence felt so outsized. Time continues to pass, and now we find ourselves in December. Throughout this darker season on the earth, we see a celebration of lights in many religious traditions. Diwali symbolizes the spiritual victory of light over darkness and knowledge over ignorance. In the Jewish faith they light 8 candles progressively for the "illumination of the house without," so that people passing by can see it and be reminded of the holiday's miracle.
In my faith tradition, we celebrate Advent, and we light one more candle each week as it gets closer to Christmas Day. This year I’ve felt more drawn to the tradition than I have for a long time. I have a ritual of lighting candles throughout my house as the sun sets. I feel held and comforted by this dark season. Every day there’s a cycle of light and dark as the sun rises and sets. Every month there’s a moon cycle from full moon to new. Every year there’s the cycle of the seasons, and now we find ourselves in the middle of the one with the least light. Darkness is one of nature’s ways, and I’ve embraced it this year, maybe for the first time ever. One of the names for Christ is “Emmanuel”–God with us. And it’s true, we can feel the presence of the Divine, even in our darkest inner winters. I don’t have to hope and wish for brighter days in the future. I’m comforted even here, in the dark.