Stillness 6-11:
Last night I awoke abruptly with a thumping a heart. Anxiety coursed through me. Fear, guilt, rage, worry, and exhaustion warred in my brain that felt as though it was on fire. I did all the usual things—water, prayer, reading, walking around—but when I returned to bed the awfulness was still there. I longed to go outside and try to breathe, but where I live wild creatures might emerge from the deep dark woods. I could hear the crazed barking of a wild band of coyotes as they circled their terrified prey. I could hear owls hooting, one to another, and then the eerie scream of a fox right in our backyard. The night seemed alive with darkness and monstrous beasts. There was no stillness. There was no rest, no sleep. The ferocity of the dark consumed me.
At long last I heard the sounds of birds and saw the sky begin to lighten. Dawn put everything into its rightful place. The bathrobe was not a grim specter. The shrub was not a monster. Everything now seemed solid and real. Of what had I been afraid? Whence had the terror fled? With my warm cup of coffee in my hands, I went outside and felt the utter peacefulness in my garden. The ground under my feet smelled fresh and good. How much our imaginations create the world in which we lie, as we try to go back to sleep! Now I remembered that wild creatures aren’t terrible—they belong outside, in our natural world. And if a bear lumbers through our mind, it’s usually a grandmotherly symbol of protection. If a fox shows up, it’s a sign beckoning us to use our magical ability to shape-shift and manifest.
There’s no darkness unless we think there is—it’s all just degrees of light. There’s no separation between night and day or inner and outer or light and dark. It’s all one essence, and that essence is always Love.