Karmic Knowledge

A few days ago I attended a Solstice celebration timed to coincide with the conjunction of the Sun and Pluto at the Galactic Center. The facilitator, friend and esteemed colleague, astrologer Mark Dodich, described the Galactic Center as a kind of black hole in the densest part of the Milky Way galaxy. During the evening’s meditation, the participants were guided to float among the stars in the darkness of space, a nice, silent place to experience the oneness of the universe, if you ask me. Thanks, Mark!

As I was leaving the event, I was approached by another attendee who, in the course of conversation, referred to me as a “lightworker.” It took me aback, as that is not a term I would ever use to describe myself. As a Scorpio with 4 other celestial bodies inhabiting that sign, I feel like I have a much more intimate relationship with the dark. This is confirmed by the Persephone style head line found on my hands, the mark of one who travels regularly to the depths to mine information.

Many of the people I meet in the spiritual community focus strongly on working with “light” and ignore or impugn its counterpart. We live in a dualistic world. Without knowledge and understanding of the dark, we cannot even begin to know the light.

Being a longtime student of the Kabbalah (one is always a student when it comes to the great mysteries), I find it essential to look at the dualities and try to come to some understanding of the balance between them. The Tree of Life is a wonderful diagram for working with the balance of the opposites. The Tree contains everything that exists in the universe and is in perfect harmony. If one pillar or one sphere were to be overly emphasized, or removed all together, the Tree would fall over.

Let’s look at an example. The orange sphere, Hod, represents language, linear thought, and rational analysis. The opposite sphere, Netzach, which is green on the diagram, represents passion, lust and the instinctual forces of nature. What could be less rational? Astrologically they are represented by Mercury (Hod) and Venus (Netzach).

Without its feeling counterpart, the intellect of Hod is just a thinking machine: cold, calculating and calloused. It becomes unable to hear the voice within because it is beyond logic. On the other hand, the emotions of Netzach are not meant to be discriminating. Without the balance of the mind, there is chaos and sentimentality, and the potential to fall prey to abuse or superstition.

Thinking Kabbalistically, I find it difficult to celebrate the return of the light at Winter Solstice without an equal honoring of the gifts found in the darkness. What better time than that of the longest night of the year to be thankful for those gifts.

To describe these gifts, I will share with you parts of a meditation that I wrote for the Winter Solstice of 1999. When the ritual began there were seven candles lit, one for each of the four directions, one each for the masculine and feminine aspects of divinity, and one to represent the light of pure spirit, the center of all things. As I named each of the gifts of darkness, I extinguished one of the candles, until all participants were enveloped in complete darkness. After a short period of silence in order to give thanks for those gifts, I relit the candles to symbolize the return of the light.

Here is that part of my guided meditation with added commentary:

Only in darkness can the seed sprout and begin its journey toward becoming. Your seed is safe in the darkness of the soil. Even now it is taking root.

The dark time is the time of hibernation for trees, plants and even some animals. Think of the bulbs that come up every spring. Without that period of winter sleep, they would not return to bring beauty to the world. Even the bulbs that we force to bloom indoors have to spend some time in a dark, cool closet in order to brighten our living rooms.

Ideas are much the same. They need time to incubate before they can take root.

It is in the darkness of sleep that we are visited by dreams. Trust in the power of your dreams.

The dreams that visit us in the dead of night are much different than those we create in the light of day. When we sleep, our unconscious minds can access symbols and pictures that we would never choose when conscious. Mind you, darkness is not entirely necessary for sleep, but it makes it so much easier.

In the darkness of the earth we find silence. Only in silence can we hear the wisdom that has always been and will always be. Listen to the darkness and heed its counsel.

With several storms having passed through the Pacific Northwest these past weeks, we lost power on two separate occasions. When the lights went out, so did the hum of the electricity. Until it’s gone, one doesn’t notice how loud it is. Despite being a little bit cold, I was in heaven. The silence was glorious. Without the electromagnetic interference, I could hear the real and natural sounds of life all around. I could hear myself communing with the heavens. I highly recommend that level of quiet.

In darkness we find rest. In rest there is healing. In healing there is the promise of wholeness.

It’s no secret that the body regenerates itself during sleep. It has been reported that bright lights and loud music have been utilized as torture methods to induce sleep deprivation. To me, darkness and silence go hand in hand. True, deep, healing sleep requires both.

Only by knowing darkness can we recognize the light. Without darkness there can be no illumination, no inspiration.

It is when we are most confused or stuck that the illumination of the AHA! moment, the lightbulb over the head, brings joy. Without the stagnation, we might not even recognize the flash of genius for what it is.

In darkness time moves in its own natural rhythm. Tomorrows blend with yesterdays, a universal present moment does not exist. Let go of the ticking of the manmade clock. Let the natural movements of time hold you in balance.

Before the invention of the lightbulb, before the synchronization of the railroads (which brought about the creation of time zones), before our modern lifestyle, man lived according to solar time. In particular, as the days grew shorter between the Fall Equinox and the Winter Solstice, it was common to sleep more, to preserve energy as well as food stores, and to rest up in preparation for the hard work required for spring planting later in the year. Now, instead of tuning in to the natural rhythms of the earth, we speed up, shop til we drop and generally stress ourselves out, forgetting that the original reason for the late December celebration was to welcome the return of the Sun/Son, and to feast in honor of good friends and good health.

We must look for ourselves in the darkness of the Great Mother’s cloak. Without the darkness of the womb there is no creation, no birth, no life.

All life begins in that place of darkness. Like the incubating seed I described at the beginning of the meditation, each of us began our journeys in a safe, warm and dark place where we are nourished and nurtured. Like children, our creative ideas also begin in a dark place, the place of imagination. Stillness is required for the creative spark to be ignited. Whatever we are birthing, the place of darkness is the place where it begins.

And now it is time to bid farewell to the longest night, to the Midnight of the year. Remember, contrary to popular belief in our bottom-line society, time spent in stillness is actually quite productive. Before you greet the return of the lifegiving light of the sun, I hope you’ll take a moment to honor the dark for all it provides.

Happy Solstice!

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