The Darkest Night

We are in this together

I once wrote a poem about what you can learn in the dark, what you can’t learn in the daylight.  I think I had just read Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, Learning to Walk in the Dark, and those ideas were fresh on my mind.  My poem, Darkness, was about the dark night of grief, and what I learned from mourning the deaths of my parents.  I found both BBT’s book and my own experiences helped me to understand (capital T) truth, the truth that life experience, even and maybe especially the difficult ones, teach you a lot about yourself, and about the people in your life. 

These days, when I have been experiencing a different kind of mourning, I am finding, again, these principles hold true.  What I am learning is that there are others who are disoriented by current events, and where we find ourselves in this odd and sometimes scary moment in United States history. 

I’ve been gobbling up every shred of encouragement, shared lament, and “can you believe it!” conversation like I am starving for them. I am drinking deeply from the well of shared lament.   

I am shaken that so many of my neighbors seem to have chosen to value their own economic well-being only, over the life and well-being of others, even others they love.  I feel like folks have literally sold their souls to the devil.  I’m not dealing with this very well.

The only silver lining I seem to find is that in my lament, in my concern for justice, for equitable treatment of all people, concern for all creation, especially for the natural world and those of us who live here (people, creatures, and even plants, streams, oceans, and mountains), that I am finding others who are lamenting as well.

From that keening cry, where we find each other at coffee shops and bars, we seem to be forming a movement of sorts.  That movement, not one that I have named or really can name, appears to me to be a resurgence in the need to gather, in person, but also using online and electronic means, and to figure out, together, what it is we need to do. What WE need to do — not just what I need to do.  What should we be using our voices and our writing to address?  What actions do we need to take to protect the most vulnerable?  How do we use our own resources to make a difference in the lives of others?  We are forming communities of hope.

All of this seems to me to be akin to when you are in the dark for a while, and your eyes begin to adjust.  You begin to see that you are not alone in the dark.  There are others standing with you, also looking around to see if they are alone.  Lots of others.  The miracle of this moment is that we are NOT alone!  While loud voices sometimes distract us from the quiet ones, it is the quiet ones that we find in the darkest places, the dimmest hours. These quiet voices calm me, steady me, and point me in the right direction.    

(photo from the Wild Goose Festival 2015 taken for Phyllis Tickle— I’m in there, can you find me?)

I hope this might encourage you as it does me.  When I put aside pondering the what-ifs and if-onlys, I find the resounding chorus of those, who, like me, want to make sure that greed and power do not have the last word.  

Here’s the poem I wrote, some years ago.  It gives me hope.  May it do the same for you.

Darkness

Only in the darkness

Can you see the stars,

When the world around you,

Dims, and spins

Out of your control,

Then, and only then,

Do you look for a compass,

Something to hold,

To guide,

To help you keep your bearings.

But when the night comes,

And even the moon

Hides her face,

And you find yourself alone,

Look up,

And see,

That even now,

The smallest points of light

Will guide you,

And their beauty 

Will surprise you.

In daylight,

You may not have not noticed,

The artificial light, a busy life, 

Crowds out the night sky.

So, step away,

Into the dark,

And don't be afraid.

You will learn things in the dark

That daylight cannot teach you.

Look around,

And you will see that that others gather

Looking to the night sky,

Just like you,

See the stars

Reflect in the eyes that set their 

Sights with yours.

We will find true 

North,

Through this mystery of

Grief,

Together.

Amy Vaughan   March 18, 2017

"Only in the darkness can you see the stars" ~Martin Luther King, Jr.