People around the world fear the dark. Children are afraid of monsters under the bed, and adults – of monsters in the White House.
But wait, the Womb is a dark place, too, which gives birth to light.
The womb of the Earth provides a dark incubator for seeds in winter, where they gather force and potency until they shoot up in spring.
A mother’s womb provides a dark and warm nest, where new life gathers energy and matures, before its ready to be birthed into light.
A cocoon offers a tight dark chamber for a larva to gather strength
and vitality before being born as a butterfly.
Our hearts beat in a dark environment inside our body, providing a
compass — for those who listen within.
Nature provided us with dark wombs where life, vitality, and
direction can grow… tucked safely away from bright lights.
Are you afraid of the Dark?
It’s easy to feel afraid of the dark being socialized the way we are:
to accept guidance only from that which we can see.
We are so conditioned to rely on sight (which requires light) that we hardly remember that listening, smelling, tasting, and sensing are all more acute in the dark. So are
our intuition and extra-sensory perceptions, which depend on us delving into the
unknown – the dark – in order to draw out jewels…
What does this mean for a child fearing dragons under the bed,
or an adult dreading the future in this uncertain political climate?
A scared child needs only a flash light in the dark. Shining it under the bed will reveal no monster hiding there. For us adults — the way out of the fear trap is a bit more complex.
What light can you shine on your fears?
What guidance can you retrieve from the dark?
As adults we are called to use both light and darkness in order to face our fears and move beyond their debilitating grip.
We are asked to actively seek Light in our life and in the world.
To pursue light and to amplify it.
Additionally, we are asked to bravely delve into the darkness where insight, guidance, and new directions are incubating, gathering life force, waiting to be drawn out into our lives.
Winter Solstice is a yearly peek of darkness, in which nature provides us a heightened opportunity for exploring the dark in search for inspiration and hope. We need to do more than seeking, though… We can plant light in the cold, wintery womb of the Earth, nurture it through the freezing season, and tend it when it sprouts in spring.
This Winter Solstice eve I invite you to plant light. Physically and metaphorically:
Dig little holes into the Earth, and place a tea-light in a jar inside each hole.
Dig into your soul and reclaim small areas, one by one, from the grips of fear.
As you light them, name each flame: