Darkness and Light

“Within light there is darkness
But do not try to understand the darkness
Within darkness there is light
But do not look for that light 
Light and darkness are a pair
Like the foot before and the foot behind in walking.
Each thing has its own intrinsic value 
And is related to everything else in function and position…”

-“Identity of Relative and Absolute” from Sandokai
by Zen Master Sekito Kisen

Darkness

Recently, I went through a period of darkness; moving through my days on automatic pilot, waiting to hear news I dreaded like I had so many times before.

I was working too many hours, listening to more stories of sadness and grief than my body could process, even floating through what should have been times of respite without my usual enthusiasm for the simple pleasures of life like grocery shopping for the week, seeing friends, or preparing food.

Even my spiritual practices seemed like too much work: I couldn’t concentrate on “just being” in meditation; my devotional readings seemed trite and irrelevant and; I certainly didn’t have the energy for yoga or even walking.

In short, I felt paralyzed to intentionally move forward with my life. I didn’t realize it at first—the signs of anticipatory grief—but looking back now, I realize that is what I was going through. 

via Kaiser Health News

A long-time friend was actively dying, although everyone who loved her hoped that it was not so. Feeling helpless and wondering what I could do to help, I walked in circles at home unable to concentrate on anything. The usual gifts of Reiki or tapping for pain relief that I could offer, weren’t wanted. All I could do was keep my friend in prayer, send Reiki to her, and call or text messages of love and support.

These things felt so inadequate given the immensity of the situation. They felt insignificant.

How is it that we who are healers sometimes cannot help the people closest to us? I wondered more than once, was I taking on too much in my own mind? Was being a witness from a distance enough? 

Then, on a Sunday in late November, I received the call that my friend had passed. Passed over, passed away… Her body had ceased to hold the spark of life that was uniquely hers. Surprisingly, it was a shock, even though it was the inevitable outcome of 8 months of increasing failed attempts to thwart the sickness that eventually took her life.

Another friend, gone.

Darkness.

Musings of Nature

When we lose someone close to us, it is a shock to our reality because many of us often tend to deny that we all have an expiration date. Each time I have lost someone close—especially one of my peers, mothers of my children’s friends, my parents, a cousin, aunt, or uncle—it has chipped away at my denial. It has made me realize that I, too, will one day not be here.

I will be gone—to where, I don’t know, although I am a person of faith who believes that this life is not the end of the line. The mystery surrounding our transition is sometimes terrifying, yet sometimes exciting to me. My consolation is remembering that so many loved ones have gone before me to that unknown space. 

I think about what we know from nature: that we are energy; that energy is neither created nor destroyed, but merely transformed. The seedling grows, produces fruit, withers and dies, only to return to the earth for the next cycle of life. Paper burns, produces smoke and ashes that rise into the atmosphere, only to ultimately return to the earth.

I think about the ocean, too. Each wave is unique in its own right, but disappears back to the ocean from which it arose. Is the wave the ocean? No, but it is intrinsically a part of the ocean. Is the ocean the wave? No, but it contains the wave. Maybe this is one of the reasons I find the ocean so mesmerizing.

All of these musings flood my awareness when I think of the ultimate darkness of death. I wonder if it is just a portal to a light beyond our imagination? In one constellation in which I participated, another close friend who was preparing to die yearned for peace about her impending death. I was asked to represent Death. As this representative, I experienced a deep love for my friend and channeled comforting words, “I am your guardian, your companion, here to accompany you.” 

It was what she needed to hear. She expressed a profound calm which remained until her death.

Darkness and Light.

Left Behind

So, how are we to go on when we lose the physical presence of a friend, a lover or a family member? That is what my friend’s family will wrestle with now. That is the challenge: to figure out how to make sense of the loss so that it becomes a source of life for those who are left behind.

Darkness into light. 

In the week after my friend died, What helped me move from the darkness in the week after my friend died was a text from my Zen teacher saying she missed me. She hoped I was ok, and that despite not being in physical contact, she felt we were connected in spirit.

I had felt it, too.

I had been thinking of contacting her about my being missing from our zendo (a group/space where practitioners sit in Zen meditation) for so many weeks, and about the malaise I was experiencing that made it difficult to follow the practices I know help me stay grounded and hopeful. The morning I received her text, I had awakened early after weeks of not being able to easily get out of bed. I began to look for something meaningful in the books I keep close. Praying silently that I would find something I needed, I opened my books.

The Hidden Lamp

Zen Entry Points

In The Hidden Lamp by Zenshin Florence Caplow et al., I read about a woman hermit in the 6th century China who was discovered alone in her cave by a traveling monk. He was astounded that a woman would live alone at that time, given the social expectations that women needed a man to care for and protect them. He asked where her relatives were, and she replied that she was surrounded by relatives in the trees, the animals, the flowers and grasses. She sensed her interconnectedness with all of nature around her.

Then, I opened the book Zen Entry Points by Dr. Paul Schubert. I read Psalm 6. Both reminded me that life is impermanent and that we are all connected in the mysterious way of spirit. As I was marveling over the power of these words, I felt moved to enter the morning zendo on Zoom, only to hear our guest teacher begin his talk on the interconnection of all beings past, present and future. 

Four distinct and seemingly unconnected sources provided the same reassuring message: We are all interconnected.

I smiled for the first time in a long while. My heart and mind started to settle. After our Zen sitting, I found my teacher’s text message which she had written in the wee hours of the morning.

Had her spirit sensed my distress? Had her energy inspired me to resume my morning practices? I believe it to be so. I quickly texted her back to thank her for reaching into the darkness and bringing so much light to my day. Somehow, my heart felt the expansiveness that a deep connection with another brings.

Connected in Spirit

At this time of Darkness before the Light, I am in awe of these movements within me. Fighting the darkness left me exhausted and depleted of hope. Then, one day, it was different.

Was it my teacher’s loving thoughts—one of the highest forms of energy—that moved my spirit to reach out for help? Was it the prayer I had said the night before to an unknown Higher Power to be released from the darkness of my thoughts and feelings?

Maybe they are actually connected.

Maybe my friend who lay dying in her hospital bed actually was helped by my prayers for a peaceful journey from her darkness to Light.

And just maybe, we are still connected in spirit.

This is my hope.

How do you find hope and light during times of darkness?
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Special thanks to our resource:

https://zmm.org/teachings-and-training/identity-of-relative-and-absolute/