Into the Dark

With Samhain behind us, I find myself tiptoeing around the edges of the Dark Time between now and Yule, terrified of what this means for me but also strangely hopeful.

The Dark Goddess
(picture found here)

Much of this is a spiritual fear -- there's so much that I've buried within, so much that I've not faced or have arrogantly glossed over that I'm shaken and terrified of going into the underworld of the self to meet it. Up until this point, I've always seen the Dark Time as being symbolic or a reference to the quiet slumbering of the natural world, tying it more closely to the beginning of seasonal affective disorder than a journey of the self. I've learned a hard lesson these past few days: the Dark Time is both, and more.

I'm frightened. The Goddess is dark, unwilling to coddle me with boughs of spring leaves and flowers or to shine down upon me in the height of summer. She commands that I do the work that must be done, and doesn't let me make excuses.  She is wise and she has spoken.

I'm working to embrace the terror, to understand it and respect the lessons it has to teach me. Going into the underworld of the self is something I've done before, something that I've often associated with the lessons of the shadow self, but this feels bigger somehow, and darker than I've faced. A lot of big changes need to be made and a lot of truths must be acknowledged -- truths that I've been running from for as long as I can remember. I know that the Goddess isn't all sunshine and rainbows, but I've successfully explained away her call in the Dark Times up until this point. I feel that She's been understanding, but the loudest message I'm receiving right now is that I can't grow if I continue to deal with things as I did when I was younger.

I'm a grown woman now, and I have work to do.

I sat outside this morning to watch the rain. I injured myself last week, so taking the break from working out meant that I had no excuse from the spiritual, and went up to breezeway on the third floor at work to watch the cold rain. The trees are clothed in their finest colors, but I can't help but dwell on what this means -- the leaves will fall, the earth will slumber, and I will be alone.

As I watched that bleak sky, I remembered the raw emotional scraping I felt when I woke up this morning, the first glancing scuff of seasonal depression telling me that nothing is worthwhile and that there's no meaning to anything. I won't give in. The path I am walking in the Dark Times is frightening and requires a lot of work, but I won't give in to the grey nothing that tells me to give up.

I'm having a hard time finding my words this morning, but I'm not apologizing -- I'm accepting it for what it is and moving forward. With practice, they should come with greater ease.