As I was leaving the meeting I was handed another Taylor book that I just finished. This one is titled “Learning to Walk in the Dark.” Darkness has bad press! People are afraid of the dark; it’s when bad things happen. Darkness is the home of sin. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, the darkness makes us soul-less.
Reading this book reminded me of my camping experiences, especially in New Hampshire. For a few years I spent my summers working for the American Youth Foundation at one of their camps in the White Mountains. The campers lived in what looked like covered wagons, spread throughout the woods. Since most of the campers came from more developed environments, it was important they became comfortable with the darkness of their environment, especially as the woods closed out even the shimmer of the moon. I don’t think it was on my job description, but I became the person who took campers on night hikes.
The camp was also the place where I chose to retreat for a few days one winter. I stayed in the director’s cabin; no heat except the fireplace; no running water, so I got it with a bucket from the lake; no electricity for lighting; no clock or watch. I rose with the dawn and retired with the dark.
The sun; it’s our source of light and life, isn’t it? Even the moon reflects it. Hanging in our dining room window, we have a glass star given to us by our daughter. There are several facets that make up the points of the star. As it hangs in the window in the early morning sun, as it swings around from the energy of the heat radiating up from below, it casts these wonderful moving bubbles of light all over the dining room walls and everything in it. Some of that light goes into the darkest corners of the room. It’s mesmerizing!
As Taylor says, “It takes practice to keep stepping into la noche oscura, to keep seizing the night as well as the day. My hope is that when the last big step comes, both my legs and my heart will know the way.”