After spending a couple of days in my own shadow places – both in terms of desire for relationship and as a mom, I’m palpably aware (again) of the desert: it’s familiarity, its pain, its truth. And, it’s here (again) that I gain the most wisdom – whether I like it or not.
Today, I’m letting the words of Oriah, in The Invitation speak eloquently on my behalf:
Wisdom is often born in the shadows, frequently more visible in the darkness than the light. The stadium lights of knowledge that seek to eliminate natural cycles of night and day, death and rebirth, sorrow and joy do not cast shadows – they provide only the steady glare of illumination. We must move into darker places if we are to find the wisdom we so desperately need. We rarely go there willingly, though every life contains its own cycles of grief and celebration. To meet wisdom in these dark places we must be willing and able to hold all of what life gives us, to exclude nothing of ourselves or the world, to tell ourselves the truth. Wisdom will stretch us far beyond where we thought we could or wanted to go. She will show us what we cannot change or control, reveal what is hard to know about ourselves and the world, and tear at the illusions of what we think we know, until we are surrounded by the vastness of the mystery.
We rarely go there willingly. And yet, it is there – in the darkness of the desert – that wisdom is conceived, birthed, nurtured, and strengthened.
And not just wisdom, but faith, desire, hope, courage, and so much more.
For all my talk, you’d think I’d welcome these shadows more readily. And yet, somehow, I still resist.
Much wisdom remains to be discovered. What is dying to be born in my shadows, my deserts?
Lent’s mantra:
…to create, to take what we find in the shadows of our lives and craft what never before has been seen.
(Jan Richardson)
For your reflection:
What is dying to be born in your shadows? Your desert(s)?
SUBSCRIBE to my Monthly Newsletter. SUBSCRIBE to the Blog via Email or your Kindle. LIKE me on Facebook.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
My desires and dreams lie in the shadows. I keep them here, hidden from view. It is easier not to confront that which is closest to your heart. It is so much more convenient to get on with day to day living, without delving into the deepest and darkest cracks.
And yet my heart calls me again and again to go into the shadows, to let my eyes adjust to the darkness and witness the dreams and paths at my feet. My heart urges me to take up a path, to walk with uncertainty and meander through the confusion and darkness.
I ask for strength to revisit my shadowy places, I ask for the courage to choose a path in the darkness and I ask for the wisdom to pursue a path that is true for me.
So beautiful, Liz – both the way you speak of this darkness AND undoubtedly, the darkness itself. As your eyes adjust (and most certainly that has more than begun) you will see those dreams and paths with startling clarity. Because that’s the way the darkness responds to us. It is not there to trip us up, malign or harm, or intentionally cause us more grief. It is a quiet, deep, and rich space.
I hope you’ll keep walking, writing, speaking of such. Beautiful.