Part I: Initiation
You darkness, from which I come,
I love you more than all the fires
that fence out the world,
for the fire makes a circle
for everyone
so that no one sees you anymore.
But darkness holds it all:
the shape and the flame,
the animal and myself,
how it holds them,
all powers, all sight —
and it is possible: its great strength
is breaking into my body.
I have faith in the night.
by Rainer Maria Rilke,
translated by David Whyte
Full Moon Tea for December 15th:
Mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris)
Chamomile (Matricaria chamomilla)
Elder (Sambucus canadensis)
I find myself living in at least two worlds at all times — one of firelight and one of night. It has always been this way. I am here in this physical, day-lit world to do, to create, and to further illuminate. But, I also live fully immersed in the twilight haze of the sunken, imaginal realm. This place is often a more natural home, because in this subtle sanctuary I can wander, dream and perceive with unhindered freedom.
Here I work in the dark — in the shadows and in the hidden places. I work in the subterranean soils of the psyche, whose endless, dim corridors are unceasing. I work amidst dusky alcoves where mystery thrives, and the unknown is protected in umbral chambers.
This veiled place — the Otherworld as some call it — runs alongside and interwoven through all of the waking world. It is behind every visible veneer, a place that cannot be controlled or possessed. Here the invisible is more real than the visible, and the flickering of a dream is no less significant than steady reality.
All of us belong to these tangled, intertwined worlds, caught in a net that keeps us tethered amongst them both. While we may want to prioritize one realm over the other, such hierarchy only diminishes our experience. We need the earthy physicality of the outer world where we seek out the light; we equally need the soul nourishment of the inner, unseen world that envelops us in shadow and mystery. Our lives constantly pulse between what is known and what is unbeknownst to us, between the light of awareness and its unlit antithesis.
There were long swaths of time when I sought out the illumination of outer knowledge to feed my hungry mind, and to broaden a world I felt was too limiting. As I prioritized learning, striving and doing I was guided to distant horizons, given a place in the world, given mooring. These bright, solar quests were approved and applauded by the world around me, as if life should be like one long, endless, sunny day.
It has taken me many decades of parched wandering in the landscapes of light to finally realize that the subterranean, inner mysteries that reside beyond the physical world hold their own unfathomable richness. While it can be quite painful and daunting to trek through the obscure and hidden parts within us, doing so offers us an astonishing sense of our own vastness and complexity. We come to realize that our daytime consciousness is only a very slight part of all that we are.
Without a sense of not-knowingness life becomes too flat and monotone, like a washed out image lacking contrast. We need shadow and mystery to give us subtlety. We need darkness to give us depth. We must come to "have faith in the night.”
With full moon blessings,
Steph
Part II: Contemplation