dark whole
listen with the lungs
Dear Ones,
Here in the Pacific Northwest, it has been DARK.
The past few days have seen an atmospheric river, bringing days of low, dark clouds, seemingly endless rain, and evenings that last all day.
Adding to this, this week and next, we have a series of squares and oppositions perfecting from the Sun, Mars, and Venus—more on this with the New Moon reading next week.
For me, this atmospheric and internal weather feels aligned with the season of darkness, these darkest days right before the return of the light in the Northern Hemisphere—a feeling of nestling in and burrowing.
I am practicing feeling dark without attributing pain, depression, or sorrow to it. And also, I am practicing being with the whole of myself, allowing grief to be here when it needs to be.
To be with a feeling, this is work. To be with a feeling honors that feeling and brings light to it.
There is much destruction happening in the US right now as well. It is challenging to feel the lightness. It is easy to feel the darkness. So what is the dark whole calling for us to see, feel, and know?
Is the dark calling for us?
The dark whole surrounded by stars, the light supporting the dark, standing vigil to the memories and darkness.
The beauty and wholeness of the dark.
Entering the deep pools of unknowing.
We are in a space of liminality. We are the goo.
We cannot see; there is little light.
How can we see with so little light?
As my friend Lucy Bonvalet said the other night:
We are listening with our lungs.
How else can we listen to see in the dark?
Deep breathing.
Soft touching.
Rolling around, feeling everything that touches us.
Smelling the decaying leaves.
Sniffing rain.
Resting.
Reflecting.
Being.
As we slowly deepen into these darkest days, let ourselves be the dark whole.
Listen with the lungs.
