I am in love with the dark. I love the way it wraps around me as I walk by the sea at night, the way the cold night air kisses my cheeks through the open window while I lie in bed.
I don't ever remember being scared of the dark, but maybe I was once. I do remember thinking, sometime, I don't remember when, that I had nothing to fear from the darkness. That I was just as much her child as I was of the light, maybe even more-so.
I'm still a night owl, my brain, my spark, my energy, my creativity coming to life as dusk settles & bursting forth once the sun has taken his bed for the night.
The moon rises cold & beautiful into the sky & I can feel her tug on me.
As I walk the boardwalk along the bay, the inky water sings softly to me, whispers seductively to me, chants incessantly to me to come roll with her waves. These invitations I let swirl about me, ever unanswered, for if I did I would become an inseparable part of those dark depths, for the tides here are too snarly, too tricksy to be trusted.
But as much as I love the dark for all this, and more too, there is one thing that the dark gives me that lighter, brighter things never can: the feeling of safety and healing.
I've been sick again this past weekend. When I finally got home Friday afternoon, I threw my bag toward my desk, stripped off my clothes & fled to my cool, dark bedroom to huddle beneath my blankets & try to sleep the headache away.
When I'm ill, I crave the dark. I hide in my room, with it's thick, dark red curtains that blot out all light, until the sun goes down. Only then do I venture out to any other part of my apartment.
When I get really bad headaches, or even if I'm just feeling sick & achy, nothing is more soothing to me than to curl up in my bed, in the dark, with the window cracked so the wind can slip through and give me tiny sips of the Autumn air.
When the light stabs at my eyes, when my skin hurts to be touched, when my sinuses are stuffed full of sawdust and molasses, soaking in a tub of hot water with some peppermint or lavender oil & the bathroom lights off soothes me so that I can sleep through the worst of it.
So the darkness is my cloak, a favorite hug; a healer of headaches and the medium on which my muses ride.
Our lives begin in the warm, safe darkness of our mothers & end in the rich, comforting darkness of Mother Earth. Sometimes in between those two places I think we need to rest a bit in the darkness to grow and heal and renew, so that we have the strength to continue on through both the darkness & the light.