Respecting the unknown by illuminating what I can

Considering St. Francis' famous prayer, line by line

Watercolor by Julie Gabrielli

Read the introduction to this series here:

Prayer is an expression of reciprocity

---

Where there is darkness, light;

I’m moved to begin this contemplation with an excerpt from a recent essay by

Deirdre Lewis

, called “Disturbed.”

“Later I thought of something Ta-Nehesi Coates said during an interview, something that applies to so many things right now. He was asked why he thought there were so many people going along with this administration and he said, ‘Darkness.’ And sometimes there really is no other answer.” ¹

This revelation and the song by D’Angelo that she included at the end were all I needed to sit in the pre-dawn darkness at my writing desk and have a good cry. I didn’t realize how much I’d been holding in for too long, pushing myself to soldier on day after day.

---

Take a breath. Light a candle.

I love the advice to light a candle instead of cursing the darkness. And still, I forget to do it. Many wisdom traditions teach that we are, or contain, light as the fire of consciousness. My imagination interchanges light with energy with spirit: I am the stuff of the universe. I am light energy. I am animated stardust. The word, light, shows up in our language in so many ways, any one of them could be the prompt for another reflection.

We are said to be lighthearted, enlightened, to take things lightly, to shed light on a problem. Some people light up rooms, others may feel lightheaded or light on their feet. We have light in our eyes, so the phrase “lights out” refers to more than bedtime, as you know if you’ve ever had your lights knocked out. A great leader is a guiding light. We “see the light” or “see in a new light” when we understand anew. Near death experiences approach a bright light. Revelations “come to light,” or we might see the “light at the end of the tunnel” after a long project or struggle.

Though I may resist it, darkness is as familiar as light. After all, it’s a condition of life on this planet that half our time is spent in darkness, much of in the sleep of darkness wrapped in darkness. We equate darkness with unconsciousness, light with awareness. This condition binds us to the physical realities of life on a planet spinning around a star and also reveals a poetic response to the mysterious dance of inner and outer, spirit and matter.

Visions tend to include, or be made of, light. I once experienced full immersion in a globe of yellow light, which my entire being knew to be the life force of love that suffuses everything we accept as “normal” and separate in the day world. I’ve spilled countless words attempting to wash the ineffable qualities of this light onto pages and screens. The closest I’ve come is the short essay, “Three Lights.”²

“If everything around seems dark, look again, you may be the light.” ~ Rumi

Tending my own inner light begins with lighting a beeswax candle³ at my desk, where I record my dreams, review the day before, and listen for guidance or, if I’m lucky, wisdom. Movement—yoga, weightlifting, running—helps me to stoke my inner fire and align my body’s energies. During the day, I tend to focus more on the light of the mind: surfing my curiosity, encountering new ideas, mentoring young people on their projects. I wish I could report an evening practice that grounds and readies me for night travels in the unconscious. But no, bad TV is my go-to. Lately, I’ve been watching “Virgin River.”⁴

As with all the pairings of St. Francis’ prayer, it’s best to embrace the both/and of darkness and light. Our modern world denies darkness 24/7. From candles to lamps to the operating-room retail lighting, to screens and streetlights, flashlights and films. Our cities never sleep.⁵

What is the price we pay for this enforced wakefulness, this constant consciousness? Neglected, even negated, the unconscious stirs. My inner darkness demands attention, and it always finds a way: through dreams, sudden emotional outbursts, irrational behavior, vicarious entertainment, illness, depression.

“One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.” ~ Carl Jung

Jung’s observation conjures the image of a seeker entering a dark cave, lantern extended in a trembling hand, hoping to find a clear stream to peer into, a shadowy reflection, a source from which to drink.

I don’t imagine St. Francis advising the banishment of darkness. I think he would do more than let it alone; he would give it its due. His choice to sow light, both within himself and in service to others, was surely made with full knowledge and acceptance of his own darkness. Today, I will light a candle instead of cursing my darkness. I will pay respect to the unknown realm of mystery and madness and to the brightly lit, loving realm of consciousness, both.

---

Balancing darkness and light - highlights from 2014

Suzanne Crawford O'Brien

was “thinking about Taoist teachings (among others!) that value the balance of light and dark, of yin and yang, of inner and outer, of male and female, and teach that these things are in a constant state of transformation, that balance is a dynamic state. And THEN I started re-reading this poem, as less of longing to counteract or nullify one state of being (sadness = bad, joy = good), and more about a prayer to bring BALANCE.”

Leslie Rasmussen

observed, “I am seeing and agreeing we can’t know one without the other. We can unexpectedly be light in someone else’s darkness or sadly darken someone’s light.”

J. Paul Moore

commented, “I think of darkness as the unknown, but it can be known. There is a mystery in darkness, and it often takes courage to investigate it.” — which evokes Carl Jung’s guidance on befriending the darkness within us. Spiritual growth essentially demands it.

Kimberly Warner

added Samantha Clark’s voice, who in her memoir, The Clearing, wrote, “darkness isn’t something to be eliminated, ignored, fixed, or got rid of. It isn’t just an absence of light. It’s an active agent, interacting with light to produce the effects we see as color.”

Emily Conway

was reminded “of the Buddhist teaching that light and darkness do not exist without each other. I can’t wrap my head around that, but I don’t think I’m necessarily supposed to. I think I’m just going to carry it with me instead.”

---

Each season, we donate 30% of paid subscriptions to a worthy environmental cause. This season, it’s Indigenous Climate Action. They envision a world with sovereign and thriving Indigenous Peoples and cultures leading climate justice for all. Track past and current recipients here.

---

If you enjoyed this post, a lovely ❤️ keeps me going. Another way to show love is to share this post with others by restacking it on Notes, via the Substack app. Thanks!

1. Read the full essay here.

2. That essay is here. Part 3 tells the story of fear carrying me behind the veil.

3. I love beeswax votives — the smell and color are such a treat. To picture the colorful grains of pollen on the bees’ leg hairs and the miracle of them making sunlight into wax. . . .

4. Yes, it’s a mediocre show. The best I can say is that it feeds my need for the closure of happy endings.

5. The best New York song is Jay-Z’s “Empire State of Mind” Who can resist the chorus: “These streets will make you feel brand new / Big lights will inspire you / Let’s hear it for New York, New York, New York.”