Out of the shadows and into the light? Two things needed.

I’ve been deeply aware of the felt tension expressed in comments and side-bar conversation around these past days of Lenten posts. On the one hand, I’m encouraged: the categories of desert, silence, rage, and suffering are clearly not unique to me. They are known and familiar spaces – particularly for women. I am not alone and my words/thoughts have merit. On the other hand, I’m sad: these same categories are all-too-often held within, unexpressed, and seen as far too risky to let out into the sun’s bright glare.Whether questions about religion and God, responsibilities and obligations, or relationships and frustrations, the out-in-the-open feels, as yet, still too fraught with consequences.

I get it: to reveal and articulate our deepest truths in words or emotions, feels dangerous and risky. That’s because it is.

But not having the opportunity, ability, or freedom to do so is equally dangerous and risky, if not more so.

It seems to me that (at least) two things are needed in order to bring us out of the shadows; to enable us to bravely, intentionally, and vulnerably step into the light, even if only tentatively at first, in naming, expressing, and living in honesty and wholeness.

1) counsel, &
2) companions

In the darkest places of my own story, it has been the wise counsel of a few strong and kind people who gave me needed strength and courage: my therapist, my spiritual director, a couple of my most intimate friends. They spoke words to me that I often was not ready to hear, but desperately needed. They provided perspective that helped me see beyond my limited scope. They asked questions that would not allow me to hide or pretend.

And in the driest, wilderness-like conditions in my life, it has been the companionship of others that enabled me to press on despite the perils and risks. Friends. Family. Colleagues. They sat with me and said nothing, listening, just being in my presence. They walked alongside me at my pace, not pulling me forward or holding me back. They lived their own story in my midst, providing example and vision for what such might look like for me – in beauty and pain.

In my next post I will tell you the story of one person who fit into both these categories: counsel and companionship. But for now, I end with wonderings.

Do I counsel – without agenda or ever-compelled by my vision of another’s capacity vs. my desire to control?

Do I companion – selflessly and generously by listening, being, walking alongside, persevering, remaining?

I hope so.

Truth-telling, authenticity, strength, and courage are not possible without such. Our presence in the desert with one another is what changes the terrain from desolation to wild beauty.

Bless the messengers who come
in daytime,
in dreamtime,
who awaken the aching
we hold within us,
who finger the wounds
unspoken and named,
who offer the balm
that comforts and quickens…

(Jan Richardson, In Wisdom’s Path)

For your reflection:

1. Who/what has been this counsel/companionship for you in your desert places?
2. Do you feel you have the capacity/ability to offer the same to others?
3. How might your desert change even more by the kindness you extend in addition to what you receive?
   

Tagged as: companion, counsel, desert, Lent, light, shadow