Light into Darkness

I have at times found myself fascinated by the attitudes of others to ‘darkness’. So often it seems to be linked to something sinister, even evil, and I wondered why this might be so. 

In most contemporary spiritual and New Age thinking it is light which truly matters, and consideration for darkness in any form might meet only with head-shaking disapproval. Darkness is thought of as being something to be banished, even to be conquered. Light, on the contrary, is something to ‘go towards’, to be sought after, to be ‘worked with’. Within Christian doctrine the emphasis is also upon the desire for light and the striving to ‘ascend’. 

But in Greek myth it is the story of Icarus, who flew with his strapped-on wings too close to the sun only to plummet to earth, which warns us of a too-eager pursuit towards the source of heavenly light and the folly of the ego in its fixation to attain this bliss. His wiser father Daedalus flew the middle way, between darkness and light, and so landed safely back on earth. It is a simple truth that the farther we go in the direction of the light, the longer and larger the shadows become that we cast behind us.

This simple truth has long been known to the mystics, who valued both darkness and light in equal measure. Darkness was itself viewed as a powerful spiritual instrument, perhaps even fuller of creative potential than light itself. In the light we see exactly what is in front of us. But what darkness might contain is limited only by what we can imagine that it contains. It can be full of unknown worlds awaiting discovery – and perhaps it is. In our universe it actually is visible light that is only a fraction of the whole, and darkness easily predominates. At first we might imagine that the universe itself is ‘out of balance’, for should not darkness and light be in equal amounts? 

Eastern tradition speaks of the Paramatma light: that divine light invisible to matter which permeates all things. Surely this invisible light is what provides the balance, for not all things in the universe which provide this perfect cosmic balance need be apparent to our limited senses. Spiritual seekers from many ancient traditions - Celtic, Eastern, Indian, Tibetan and African - have treated the darkness as an instrument for spiritual enlightenment. The literal definition of the word shaman is 'he or she who sees in the dark'. The shaman would say that there is no such thing as darkness: only an incapacity to truly ‘see’.

Western mystics also recognized the importance and the power of darkness. The Gnostics referred to the creator as ‘Dazzling Darkness’, (see my post: Dazzling Darkness) and John of the Cross spoke of "the dark light". The idea of balance is always what lies behind these ideas: neither to concentrate on light at the expense of darkness, nor to become preoccupied with darkness at the expense of light. Spiritually, both are of equal value, and wise Daedalus shows us the course that we should follow. 

Painting: Balance is the Key by Aleister Gray

The Children of the Light

Music fills the infinite between two souls. 
~ Rabindranath Tagore

There is a universal language which expresses itself in music, symbols and images. This cosmic muse does not in the first instance address herself to the mind, but mainly to the awakening human soul. She is like a messenger who brings beauty into the world - an urge that in someone awakens the urge to create something which touches the heart of the other. With this language the Light expresses itself in the material, and then the person creates something that was not there before - not yet present in the material world.

The French author and philosopher Victor Hugo stated: "Music expresses what cannot be said in words - and about which can hardly be kept silent." In the same spirit Rudolph Steiner describes this universal language of the soul when he says: "What the soul sets foot on her initiation path one cannot ‘experience’ - but one can sing it or compose it.”

This language of the soul may be used by those who wish to reconnect us with the Great Light from which we originate, from which we ourselves well forth. The creative ones amongst us articulate this language already as poetry, as music. A primary function of music is that of intermediary: time and again this cosmic muse activates longing - and the existence of longing.

It has been said that the children of the Light, in the end of days, will play a perfect piece of music before their Creator. When this time is upon us they will perform all themes in perfect harmony, for they will have understood the meaning of the Light, and each will know the function of the other wholeheartedly, as they themselves will be known by others. But even before that time music can be a portal for the happiness and peace within us to shine through.

Painting Angel by Edward Burne-Jones

Candles in the Earth

Today, November 11th, is traditionally the feast day of Saint Martin. Martin was a 4th-century soldier who, when still only eighteen, arrived with his troops at the city gates of Amiens. As the soldiers filed into the city they passed a beggar. Martin was the only one who stopped, but being poor himself he had nothing to give. Instead, he tore his cloak in half and gave half to the beggar as some protection against the winter cold.

That night in his dream Jesus appeared, wearing the half-cloak that Martin had given to the beggar, saying to his angels: “See, how this young man has clothed me.” The dream had a profound effect upon Martin. He gave up soldiering to lead a life of simple devotion, founding a monastery where the poor could always depend upon finding shelter. 

In the later centuries of medieval times it was November 11th, Martin’s day, which marked the beginning of winter, and of advent: the countdown of forty days to the shortest day of the year. On this day in the Netherlands it is a tradition for children to go from door to door carrying lanterns made from scooped-out turnips with candles in them. These simple lanterns carry a message: a reminder that during the long months of the northern European winter, when the earth appears to sleep, each living thing still carries within it the spark of light, the seed of new life that will awaken once more in the spring.

These little candles, these tiny sparks of the summer sun that stay alive to burn through the sleeping earth of winter, offer a more profound reminder: that the apparent end of life is not really an end. The precious flame still continues to burn, even when it is no longer visible to us. Our life, our very soul endures, even though it might change its form. And if sometimes we forget this truth, perhaps in those despairing moments when we imagine that we have nothing left to give, we can remember Martin’s gesture. All of our humanity, all of our compassion and our hope for the future, can be contained in just half a cloak, and warm us until another spring arrives.

Painting Saint Martin by Gustave Moreau

Night-Silence ~ Nachtstilte

Night-Silence

Hush now, hush: on feet of silver

Through the night see silence go,

Silence that from gods delivers

Greetings to the watch below...

What ’twixt souls could not be spoken

In the daytime’s empty din

From high realms that night has woken,

Into light star-bright now broken,

Sullied by no word or token

God speaks deep within.

*

Nachtstilte

Stil, wees stil,

Op zilv’ren voeten

Schrijdt de stilte door de nacht.

Stilte, die der goden groeten

Overbrengt naar lager wacht.

Wat niet ziel tot ziel kon spreken

Door der dagen ijl gegons

Spreekt, uit overluchtse streken

Klaar, als ster in licht zou breken,

Zonder smet van taal of teken

God in elk van ons.

*

Poem by the Dutch poet P.C. Boutens (1870-1953)

Translation by Emma & David Bergen

Painting: "Licht" - Juke Hudig