The Journey

I recently had a thought and it arose with concern. I thought to myself, “What if I am most at home within my darkest hours?” and I felt afraid of it being true. I have found that it is often within these darkest hours that I feel closest to myself and closest to a divine Source. I fear that, perhaps, I crave these times, and even manifest them, because they are what feel most familiar to me, and therefore, (ironically) safest.

But the truth is, I have often felt at home within myself, and close to some divine Source, when I am at my happiest and my most sublime. I have learned that I am equally capable of defaulting to this as I am to darkness. I was at one time convinced by others that I was an irrevocable Eeyore and that my natural tendency was to be miserable.

I have since learned that, in a free life, I actually tend quite toward the opposite: toward enthusiasm, joy, optimism and genuine pleasure in life. I crave balance and peace and contentment and I naturally seek them out in my day to day. And while I enjoy that immensely, I also find that a part of me always has one eye out for the next dark hour.

This part of me that is looking out…I don’t think it is all pessimism. Ingrained trauma response from a lifetime of reasons? Sure. But maybe also: I know how to navigate that territory, those dark spaces. I have acquired, through that lifetime of reasons, a torch that ignites anytime I find myself back in the dark. And that torch always leads me back out into the daylight, not just as a survivor, but with deeper wisdom and greater understandings. That cyclical journey through the dark has become one of the most dependable things in my life, and dependability, after all, is one of my deepest cravings.

I can feel the darkness nipping at my heels. I see it, out of the corner of my eye. It is creeping toward me like an oil spill. It won’t be much longer now. I know what is coming for me.

Is it so crazy that some part of me feels relief in knowing it is there? Feels peace in knowing what is to come? Feels (ironically) optimistic about what will be gained and how much more will be learned?

I’m not afraid of the dark. I don’t fear solitude. I welcome it, old friend that it is. It’s the anticipation that I find so uncomfortable. It’s the waiting for the inevitable change, for the last rays of the setting sun to finally sink below the horizon.

Perhaps, one day, I will no longer need the dark hours and empty spaces to hear, see and learn, to love the bright days so completely and to maintain that close connection to divine Source. Maybe I will outgrow the cycle completely and find only happy days rising on that horizon. But until then, I think I will not feel shame any longer for embracing my personal superpower: to not only grow, but glow, in the dark.