Last night I hauled out around the fire pit, and snoozed upon the sweet hard earth. No cushion- that’s how I needed it. (“He made him ride on the heights of the land and fed him with the fruit of the fields. He nourished him with honey from the rock, and with oil from the flinty crag…”*) No body beside me other than the slugs and bugs, who did not frighten me. No light but the stars, my dinky little fire, my soul and it’s Maker. No music but the song I sang to him, “Come down, O love divine/ seek thou this soul of mine, and visit it with thine own ardor glowing…” And I made my way into the darkness around me, eyes opening wide into the unseen.
Over the past few years I have been mysteriously reminded by people unconnected to each other that it is possible to see in the dark. I have been shown this with love. One must open one’s eyes so wide that the tangible darkness fills them entirely. Your skin emerges into electric knowing; your center repositions, your skin-hairs alert, and you see.
The first thing you see is that you could do what you thought you couldn’t, that you have reserves of strength in places you never considered. That is Grace: we do not create it, but only open to it. You see that there is light in unlikely places, that you are never left without a way through the thicket. Not a sparrow is lost.
In the words of the one hundred and thirty ninth’s psalm, “Even the darkness will not be dark to You; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to You.”