Dark, Light, and Sitting With It All
On sitting with it
“But what happens if I move closer,” asked mouse, as he inched his chair forward.
“This,” said his little heart, “this.”
Thoughts
I invite you to picture the seven-year-old you. Your eyes wide. Like hope. Like wonder. Like trust.
You’re in a room. It’s quite big. So large that you can’t see from one side to the other.
Oh, and it’s dark. Inky dark. Like space. Like coal. Like loss.
You’re sitting in a chair. Not a particularly comfy chair. No cushions. A stiff back.
There is no sound in this room. It’s desperately quiet. You can hear your breath. The beating of your heart. Time.
Then, in the distance, a small, sallow light flickers. Anemic.
It’s shining on something. But it’s far away. And you can’t see what it is. At first.
So, you move toward it, cautiously.
It seems so far away, until it’s not.
And you begin to see what it is.
And you wish you didn’t.
So you run away, headlong into the dark.
But you can’t see, becoming quickly disoriented, unable to tell up from down, in from out. Panic gripping.
And that’s when you remember.
And that’s when you turn back around, facing the light from far across the room, and speak:
“I see you there,” you whisper from the dark.
“I *am* afraid of you,” you stammer, “but I will not run away.”
“You *did* hurt me,” you cry, “but I will not run away.”
Tears streaking your little face, hands balled into fists, you take a step closer.
“Come and sit with me,” it says, gently. “I have many things to teach you.”
Where’s a hurt, a pain, a fear, or a dark place you can sit with quietly today and simply listen?
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