There are two choices when you’re waiting in the darkness. Move into the light, or wait for the light to move into you.
I suppose it’s like sitting in the shade. Enjoying the cool, looking out into the sunlit world. You know that at any moment you can get up and return into the light. And you also know that you can sit still, and the shade will give way to the light.
When you are sitting in the darkness, you are pregnant with possibility. Waiting, torpid, the sense of stasis is pervasive; you have made the decision to make no decision. The darkness is comforting, it is stability, it is the known, the circumscribed, it requires very little effort on your part. With no effort toward movement, there is an enjoyment of an illusory sense of permanency. All choices are postponed as you bask in the comfort of the known.
To make the choice to move out of the shade, out of the darkness, requires an act of faith. Faith is required, because you have no idea what movement will bring. Stepping into the light might bring positive or negative events into being. Obviously, the difference between the shadows and the light are those of warmth and coolness, which can be either comforting or uncomfortable, depending upon your perceptions of the moment. If you are cold, the warmth of the sun is desireable, if you are hot, the coolness of the shade can be equally attractive. Similarly, if your personality has been formed to suit the darkness, then you will gravitate toward the shadows. If your personality has been formed to suit the light, you will gravitate toward the sunlight.
Stability is an illusion, when applied to the world of our senses. Change is the rule. So all urges we have toward keeping things the same, maintaining a certain lifestyle or being the same person are doomed to failure. The light comes to us, when we attempt to remain in the dark. The light may be born by another person, or it may arrive on its own, in the form of an event that forces us into movement. The loss of a job or a loved one, the arrival of a baby or a phone call. An earthquake or a car crash, a trip to jail or church. The type of self-examination that arises from experiences of cognitive dissonance, where we find ourselves unable to percieve our surroundings the same way as we did before, is a harbinger of things to come, a fundamental shift in paradigmatic thought, a blessed experience whereby we come to see the light.
At a certain point in our lives, each of us becomes aware when we are running from the light. We see the people around us, and we notice the differences in personality and inclination that makes some people more open than others and we make a conscious choice to associate ourselves with the kinds of people who help us to feel comfortable about the lives that we have chosen. And yet, even surrounded by darkness, by those who have chosen pain over pleasure, there remains a sliver of light, a seed of potential that can blossom into a raging inferno, given the right catalyst.
With successive opportunities- over the course of a lifetime – to choose the light over the darkness, our inevitable choice becomes a reflection of the person that we have decided to be. And, after a certain point, the potential to deny the original choice and choose another grows smaller as the egoic resistance solidifies, resulting in what some call a ‘hardened heart’, where the light cannot shine, or where the song of life cannot be heard. Our souls become a rocky wasteland where painful pleasures bring a decreasing reward. Pleasures that brought ecstatic enjoyment in the years previous become joyless habits impossible to fulfill, but which require constant maintanance because they reflect the choice that you originally made to follow a certain path, rather than another.
Yet and still, movement is constant. The light returns as the sun returns, because we are in movement. The light is constant. The sun shines from the center of our solar system as the planets dance around her, rotating at their leisure, engaging each other in planetary dramas as she looks on in benevolence and strength, building consensus and representing peace with her presence alone. Our relationship to the light is similar. The light of love, of Divinity, remains the same. It is always there. It is we who move. It is we who find solace in the darkness sometimes and don’t want to come out to face the light. The light that burns so brightly, revealing all of the dark corners of our souls.
The dark corners that we are ashamed of. That we don’t want anyone to see, to know about. No one at all, let alone the presence that lies ever in waiting within the very heart of the light. The dark corners that keep us cowering in the shade, scurrying like rats to follow dark, diminishing patches of cool stability as the burning rays of truth reach out for us, offering us the one thing that the darkness never can.
The revealing of truth. All things hidden, brought to the surface. Living in the light. Becoming the light.
Realizing that the weight of life is the sum of our choices. That our bodies reflect our untruths, our distortions, our perversions, our neuroses. Over a lifetime, we become our decisions, in form and inclination. The shift of an eye, the twist of a lip. The deformation of a strut turned limp, a sneer turned into a leer. Vocal propensities become unconscious habit, we become all that we have been and in so doing, reflect our chosen reality for the entire world to see.
Those who choose the light reflect that choice. A certain lightness of Being, an airy quality of strength and potential. Smooth brows and a twinkle in the eye, a spry step and easy laughter minus guile and deception. The choice to embrace the light is the choice to embrace change, which leaves the past behind and creates each moment anew in the Now, disallowing the collection of earthly weight and of burdensome habits that collect further poundage, dust and disfunction.
So, in the end, the only choice becomes when. When you will allow the light to become you. If you will move into its path, or wait until it inevitably moves into you, the difference between the two being the amount of difficulty that you will encounter once the light illuminates the areas of your life that you have been keeping hidden. By moving consciously into the light, you have a certain amount of say in how you will experience it, how you will focus that light and, thereby, affect how those around you will react to its warming, life-giving presence. Often, when we wait for the light to come to us, it pays no attention to our wishes and desires, arriving with the searing vengence of the desert sun, taking life, burning and scorching all in its path.
The amount of fear we cultivate – allow to surround us and affect our thought processes – will determine how and when we choose to consumate a relationship with the light. The fact that this fear has a life and personality of its own makes it more difficult to overcome. As all living things do, it fears its own dissolution. Its death. The death of the ego, which feeds upon and hoards the fear, using it to keep us distracted from the Now and seeking the shadows when the light is our birthright.
All things return to their origins, eventually. Even upon the eve of our exit from this life, the light will beckon us to come forth.
The choice of when, not if, is all that we possess, because we are indeed fractals – reflections below of Reality above – temporarily obscured by shadows created by endless movement, yearning to live again, thrive again, fully exposed, in, to and of the precious light.