There is a place within all of us where people choose not to visit and sometimes pretend doesn’t exist. For some that place becomes home because there is safety in the absence of confrontation but when weighted against the dangers inherent in loneliness we quickly become aware of its falseness as it transitions to hell and surrounds a figurine heart made of ceremonial wax unprepared to battle fires within that having no wick melts and pours outside of the skin to touch everything in its surroundings with heat that turns cold to gleefully block oxygen and fulfill its own prophecy of death as those touched by our pain scream and walk away to peel us angrily away from their memory.
It is known for having no wattage, the place where ghosts choose to roam, where others come to suck our blood as spiders arrive to build and little children become slaves in their responsibility to count all the missing sheep but it’s also known for relaxation and rest where massage, reiki, acupuncture and on occasion talk therapy roam.
A perfunctory hell and mandatory healing room where walls look like shit in their structures of failure while also feeling orgasmic in their lack of expectation embrace. None of us escapes the moaning, the cumming and pregnancy of will. It exists to expand the seeds within us until we embrace the courage to birth the promises of our inheritance.
Everything grows in the dark so do not envy what you perceive to be light. In fact, if your darkness has extended beyond periods of everyone else’s perceived normality to the point where they insult you with their opinions of your process, then take this as one of the signs that the seeds within you are so powerful they require more nurturing by the One who planted them. Take it as a sign that they do not know you and are not for you. Take it as a sign that you’ve changed and that within your transformation many still will not recognize you in your authenticity and choose to fall away as their true intentions are revealed.
As authenticity becomes grief and love becomes a question of impending betrayal be still and know the darkness is continuing to work within us. All that has burned within must become ash and spread throughout our minds until there is impulse to ask for help, until we realize there is no support nor prescription for the sense of failure felt in our reflected realities, that little exists without strings to hold us until the curtains are drawn. Know that darkness is not done as we acquiesce to pain’s grandfather Numbness, who smiles benevolently at our enemies and says “Give me more” until falling to silence, the only communication that ensures our protection in this temporary place.
Darkness is refuge and in that time much more will fall away, things we may have worked most of our lives to find security in; family, friends, business, retirement, savings and reputation. In releasing perceptions of security and falling into the dark embrace of our heart’s echo we’ll stand empty in the chamber, an emptiness greater than we might ever have imagined yet after anxiety subsides it will be clear we’d never needed all we’d held steadfast to but more than this we are gifted space to hold onto a self we may never have known for having sent it to battles and wars that were never ours as we persisted through each day in a state of shell shock and unconsciously earning peanuts.
Freedom meets us wrapped in Amelia Earhart passion as we walk away from battlefields of judgement and idealism to declare peace within our souls and with shaking hands unwrap what awaits discovery to find hope in the knowledge that with broken wings we were never alone and that our flight gear was safely maintained by those who stood with us in faith.
Maybe it is just this way for me. I don’t know.
If for you also, know the darkness is also our light, that the void prepares us to receive the gift of grace so that we move in steadfast manner and unperturbed by wars existing invisibly, that they lose their power in our newfound strength bound in a constitution that stands in alliance with the One and all those who loyally march by our side.
For every second we despair there is a hand that minute by minute holds ours joyful in the knowledge it need not wait to count hours to love us completely in our flawed humanity.
This is why we were born and why the seeds planted hurt so.