DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL

The dark night of the soul. A time of dissociation and suffering that promises to overwhelm all in a plunge into absolute despair. Have you been there? I have been tested by that darkness. I will be tested again. How do we find the courage, the faith, to hold on when all seems lost?

Last year, I could not paint for a long time. I could barely put two thoughts together. I started this painting for a friend who also was going through a profound tragedy. His suffering was beyond belief. In the attempt to understand that darkness I sought with my paint brush an aperture to let the light in once more. I discovered the light had remained constant  even through my despair.

 To see clearly  without a trace of fear…. to know certainty without the least lingering doubt we must first face the possibility of the deepest darkness. Against the light that sits at the centre of this mysterious, beautiful  Creation darkness cannot abide. 

I know that now.

RAVENS CIRCLING IN THE NIGHT

The black birds turn silent around the axis of the moon.  There is a place in the depth of the heart darker than the depth of deep space.  The void itself.   An infinite possibility not yet defined.   A yearning towards.  Creation evolves from the purity of the clean slate to the infinitesimal encompassment of the Divine. A paradox. Both are true at once. A reminder to embody the shadow depth of the emptiness we are moving away from… and always toward. Ravens circling in the night. 

WHITE WATER…WHITE HORSES

The difference between the miraculous & the mysterious is hard to define. The miraculous occurs when the mysterious becomes manifest. White horses in the moonlight in the blue water of baptism, the baptism into the fantastic beauty of the certainty of Creation. We are left breathless. We stop in our tracks. The horses have come to this moment because they are borne of the moon and of the clear Glacier waters of the far mountains. They know. You and me, we glimpse the miraculous but must move forward and learn to live in the mystery.

DOVE

The white bird rises. The moon rises full, white as the bird above. The air, still. Silence reigns. The only motion, a stirring of wings. No owning this knowing. A certainty beyond knowing. A knowing beyond certainty. Amnesia after this moment, also, certain. The white bird rises.