What’s up with this notion of if it’s not dark it’s not deep?
Likewise, people seem to think the bright and happy stuff is automatically surface level.
I’ve noticed this in not only writers, performing artists, and theologians, but also my own friends and family. We don’t “go there” because it’s too dark. Or how can a cheerful dialogue be meaningful?
It’s true. A lot of times, when you dig deep, you’ll find some uncomfortable truths. And sometimes these truths are dark. But dark doesn’t mean deep or vice versa. In fact, if the truth you’ve arrived upon is dark, chances are you simply need to keep digging. Dig past the darkness until you once again arrive at light.
Just look at Dr. Suess as an example. He was one of the greatest artists of all time and he was deep. An average onlooker might mistake his work for being “fluffy” or “frivolous”, but if you look a bit closer, his messages are powerful and timeless. In order to arrive at them, I’m certain he had to wade through some dark waters. But unlike many great artists, he didn’t let the dark waters consume his work. He simply swam deeper.
I believe that all truths at their core are light. This is because at our core, we are light.
So next time you hear someone say that a piece of self expression isn’t meaningful because it’s not dark and/or deep enough… or if you have a friend or family member who never seems to want to “go there” because “why should we get dark”…. gently remind them that deep doesn’t always mean dark.
People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within. – Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
Everything on Earth is composed of opposites. We relate to the world through contrasts. Scientists call this The Unity of Opposites.
Just think of nature. Day and night, light and darkness, hot and cold…
Or your daily life. Gain and loss, pleasure and pain, good and bad, and so on.
Nothing has no opposites.
Except God. God is No Thing.
Night is the time when we’re alone, isolated in our bed, away from distractions and forced to confront our pain. I used to fear the night. I dreaded falling asleep, while needing rest more than ever before. In the quiet dark, the pain I spent all day running from, would sit right down on the edge of my own bed, like a familiar stranger, just staring at me. I hid from it any way I could; sleeping aids, prescription meds, exhaustion, alcohol… But no matter how great my hiding place, or how long I hid, the pain was relentless. It wouldn’t leave. Night after night, there it sat on my bed. Waiting for me. What does it want from me?!
Eventually, I learned to stare back. I began to even look forward to the night, when I could lie with that familiar stranger, face to face. Today, although the pain remains, its power is weakened. Finally, I am able to look it in the eyes and say, “I’m not scared of you anymore. I am grateful for you.”
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us.”
Sadness to appreciate happiness
Absence to appreciate presence
Darkness to appreciate light
And Noise to appreciate silence.