Wander In The Darkness

We avoid darkness
at all cost.

From the earliest age
we’ve been taught
that the darkness 
is scary
painful
frightening
dangerous
and even evil.

We’ve been taught to avoid the darkness.

The truth is 
that it’s not the darkness
that is scary.

It’s our learned thoughts about the darkness 
that are scary.

The often almost-automatic darkness
that envelops many of us
following the death of someone we love
is filled with gifts. 
Healing gifts.

But we’ve been taught
from an early age
to fight the darkness.
And oh do we fight it.

With a pill (or three)
with a drink (or four)
with food
with work
with television
with gossip
with sex
and with any other soft addiction we can think of.
We will do whatever we must
to make sure we never enter the darkness.
Where the healing gifts lie
in plain sight.

The darkness invites us to slow down.
To rest.
To sleep.
To think.
To feel.
To sort out
sift through
remember and reconnect.

The darkness invites us to cry
softly
or loudly
or any volume level in between.

And to wander.
The darkness invites us to wander.
In order to find our self again,
in order to find life again.
We must be willing to wander.
Often alone.
Through the darkness.

To find pieces
of the shattered puzzle
that was us
whole 
before the death of our beloved.
To find the pieces of the puzzle of us
shattered now
in millions and millions of pieces.

To discover
that some of the pieces still fit.
And other pieces must be tossed aside
because they don’t fit
anymore.
Those pieces no longer serve us.
And through our wandering
at times feeling clueless and lost and incompetent
realizing that there are new pieces, too.
We discover new
fascinating
sparkly
new pieces to the puzzle
of us
as we wander towards healing
and wholeness.
Again
or for the very first time.

You must wander in the darkness for a time.
Do not be afraid.
It is where healing lives.

 

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