Awakening To Joy
Bottle Cove, Newfoundland
“I KNOW MOUNTAINS because I have stood on precipices and breathed. I know prairie because I have lain on my back and been absorbed by the sky. I know the ocean because I have immersed myself in it and felt the pull of its current. If I want to know life, I need to experience its wonder and breathe it in with every breath. If I want to know possibility, I need to see its immensity and allow it to absorb me. If I want to know faith, I need to surrender to it and feel it pulling me in its unseen direction.”
EMBERS: One Ojibway’s Mediations by Richard Wagamese (1955-2017)
We all make decisions to move toward uncertainty. The only question is whether or not the decision is made consciously. It may feel like twilight, a line between a sinking, settled sun and the darkness, when it feels as if I am losing my sight. Instinctively, we know that something darker is coming, or in my story, more of the unknown. After my red chair moment (see the last blog post in case you want to read about it before this one) I find myself living a bit differently. I take baby steps, as I learn to embrace living, choose to embody aliveness, and navigate my existence with the intention of hopefulness. It feels clunky and unsafe; it still feels untrue - for me. But I feel much more compelled to move toward the edge of my comfort zone, now that I have acknowledged my choice to move away from despair.
I realize we need the dark to bathe in moon and stars, but what about when the sky is cloud-covered or we’re in night fog as thick as pea soup. What happens when all that is bright and shining, is invisible? I have been stuck in foggy twilight for too long, and a hollow still drags at my feet. There are certain things my productivity cannot conceal.
Barbara Brown Taylor writes about three twilights in Learning to Walk in the Dark. Civil, nautical and astronomical, which have been deemed so by the U.S. Naval Observatory. Civil twilight appears first, and feels as if I am peering into an abyss, my eyes slightly hazy. Trees shape into tall monsters, with deeper and darker shades of green. The sky opens into darkening spaces, a way to lose ourselves, if uncareful.
Next comes nautical twilight. During a clear sky, darkness descends as bright Venus makes her debut. She is the star of her night show, her presence burning itself into a bold and fiery flame. When fog or cloud cover is present, we see nothing but a grim sky, shadows for company.
