One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. –Carl Jung
I have a confession to make. Probably 50% of the time when I mean to type, “sacred,” I type, “scared” instead. My next confession is that I am not a touch typist, I am a hunt and peck typer, so that may explain why, but I think there’s more to it than that….
There’s something about the deep unknown that scares us (or at least some of us). We’ve been told and taught that the unknown is dark and shadowy; it’s murky and mercurial; it’s a place we should not go. Hence, scary.
And we tend to run from what scares us: from our darkest shadow, from our deepest emotions, from the parts of ourselves we cannot accept. We suppress our anger until it festers and we vent it on the wrong things (and people); we stifle our sadness until our unshed tears dry up leaving us empty of joy; and we deny our fears by trying to control everything and everyone in our lives. When we ignore these darker emotions, we are in danger of falling into a black abyss of depression where no light penetrates or emanates.
Without acknowledging these darker aspects of ourselves–our anger, our sadness and our fears–we aren’t quite complete. These aspects of ourselves don’t, and won’t, go away on their own. They stage a sit in and wait in the dark.
All this talk of shadows and darkness, reminds me of Ursula K. Le Guin’s book (the one many of us read as teens), The Farthest Shore, and Ged, the young wizard, who runs from the shadow he unleashes upon the world. It is not until Ged names his shadow that he is able to face it, to conquer his fear, and merge with it. It is his understanding and ultimately his naming of it that allows him to be whole.
Shadow work is the path of the heart warrior. – Carl Jung
One of my own shadows came to me in a dream, capturing my attention. I was both disturbed and intrigued by it. When he then came to me in meditation, this time in a more demanding way, I was alarmed. When I next meditated I could feel him lurking, so I asked him, “what do you want?” He expressed that he wanted my love.
I knew in that moment that he was an aspect of myself that I had rejected and denied–the free-spirited puer (young male) part of me. When I was able to acknowledge him and his positive energy, he was satisfied and became an energetic quality that I can call upon when young male energy is most needed. He became my ally.
When we choose to look closely at ourselves, most often when we are in a place of despair, we begin to see into our darkness with an honesty and a clarity that shines its light upon it.
If we sit in that darkness, without fighting it, our vision adjusts. And if we sit there long enough to name the shadow that we deny or suppress or ignore, the inner light of our being begins to glow with understanding and compassion, and eventually suffuses the darkness.
Our darkness begets the light. We shine with its radiance. And, as heart warriors, we unmask what scares and reveal the sacred within.
I took the liberty of updating Sam Keen’s gorgeous prose about the sacred to include the feminine experience. When he wrote that piece many years ago, he believed that men were in desperate need of connection to the sacred. I would say the same is true of women, especially today, so we can regain and reclaim a deeper connection to ourselves.
The sacred wisdom of ceremony and dreams reveal that the sacred is even deeper within us. And we have yet to plumb its full depths. As Robert Johnson, the eminent psychotherapist, wrote in his book, Inner Work: Using Dream and Active Imagination for Personal Growth, “every expression of the unconscious–whether dream, imagination, vision, or ritual–proceeds from the same reservoir deep within. And everything, therefore, works together.”
There is a place within us that is sacred. A place that is whole and holds us, open and spacious, loved and loving. But, being creatures ensnared in an increasingly unnatural and external world, we forget that it’s right there in all of us.
Creating a vessel or container to hold it (a “bowl by the front door”) is a way of reminding ourselves that it’s there and needs to be filled. I literally have a bowl by my front door where I place stones and shells I gather when I go to my sacred place at the beach. I touch them when I’m starting to feel disconnected from myself. Your touchstones could be anything. A picture on your fridge. A talisman in your pocket. A mantra you repeat to yourself.
The energy of Lake Atitlan is like nothing I have ever experienced. As I boarded the boat in Panajachel that would take me to my solo retreat, I felt in awe of the lake’s vast expanse cradled amongst towering volcanos and highland hills. The energy was powerful but distinctly feminine. I felt sheltered and cared for, even held, by its energetic presence.
I came home from my retreat open, spacious, fully present and reinvigorated. The light in my eyes stayed for weeks and weeks, and came from a deep place within me. This was no mere vacation glow. Touchstone moments and talismans from my retreat became reminders of that sacred, renewing energy. I could call upon it and return to that fierce and nurturing feeling anytime I wanted.
If I can see with compassion that the one who is doing the attacking or blaming “knows not what [s]he does,” then forgiveness comes more easily. And if I look closely at those times when I blamed myself the most, I now can see that I was indeed blind and unknowing.
I was always afraid of the dark. Things going bump in the night (which was usually just my big sister under my bed). Where did that fear of the dark come from? From the uncertainty of it, from not knowing what was behind or within that darkness, or from wanting to avoid the darkness of pain or sadness?
And then I discovered another kind of ceremony, and it involved chocolate, actually raw cacao. My life and my perception of ceremony changed forever.
