In the Still of Life

“There is a part of the soul that stirs at night, in the dark and soundless times of the day, when our defenses are down and our daylight distractions no longer serve to protect us from ourselves. What we suppress in the light emerges clearly in the dusk. It’s then, in the still of life, when we least expect it, that questions emerge from the damp murkiness of our inner underworld … These questions do not call for the discovery of data; they call for the contemplation of possibility.’

Sister Joan Chittister, American theologian, social commentator, best-selling author, and sought-after speaker, has written these words that, in the quiet darkness as this blog is conceived today, speak to us as we slow just a little in the middle of July, to recharge in this hot and humid summer season. 

Where we are in the world, is in the midst of the lightest time of the year, daylight is at its most abundant. But darkness still always looms, not only in the ongoing cycles of day and night, but in the ongoing cycles within our minds and hearts. The disappointments, the deaths of many kinds - dreams, relationships, abilities, and the delusions that come from pessimistic and wounded places within us, still can abound in our souls and minds and spirits. 

We all need more quietness in our lives. The unrelenting news of wars, natural disasters, political dramas, and crush of expectations, real or imagined, overwhelm. We need the literal darkness to slow us down and the symbolic darkness of quieting our minds and bodies to reflect, refresh, and restore our spirits and souls to a healthier equilibrium. In this season of traditional slowing down, taking vacations and time off, and hoping for easier days, this is a season to re-set and to try to find a healthier balance again.

Summer is a time to immerse ourselves “in the still of life”. Its rhythms can be just a little slower, just a little quieter, if we are intentional about it. We need to be intentional about it, to restore our souls and spirits, and our minds and bodies with them. In this season of actual greater daylight, where we can easily justify doing more, going more, scheduling more, we need the quietness that symbolizes darkness, to allow our thoughts to linger, to reflect, and to seek more of the hidden light we need to see in the midst of the all too present darkness around and within us. 

In the darker moments of our lives, when despair, dread, and doubts can more quickly emerge within us, we need to acknowledge them. And  … we need to allow them to take us to places of greater light. Places where we, as author Og Mandino declares - “I will love the darkness for it shows me the stars”. 

Where are those stars for us, those brilliant beacons that pierce the immense darkness that can overwhelm our lives?

The stars are the glimmers of lights that we often don’t see in our overly busy everyday lives when we don’t look up from our tasks, our agendas, or the calendars and appointments that rule unmercifully over us. But in the proverbial, symbolic darkness, when we are more stilled, we need to remember to look up to overcome the darknesses we all experience, to discover the points of light - more than we can possibly count - piercing our dark outlooks, perceptions, and feelings. We need the space to look up in the dark, to witness that all is not dark, that all is not hopeless amidst and around us.

There is light that always, always shines in the darkness, no matter what that darkness is - whether it’s within nature and its natural rhythms or within us and our natural inclinations to focus on darkness rather than on light. 

This is a season, as Sister Joan writes, for the contemplation of possibility. 

May we all take the time to be more still and to allow possibility to wash over us, especially when we are inclined to only see the darkness that is definitely all around us. We do need to acknowledge that darkness for us, to overcome it. 

Yet … there is always light in the midst of it too, the light that we too often don’t take the time to see. Now is the time to take the time to discover and rediscover it again. 

In the still of life. 

Photo by Klemen Vrankar on Unsplash