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ascendingaeons · 2 months

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Bright Awakenings and Dark Nights

“When water gets caught in habitual whirlpools, dig a way out through the bottom to the ocean. There is a secret medicine given only to those who hurt so hard they can’t hope. The hopers would feel slighted if they knew.”

- Jalaluddin Rumi (tr. Coleman Barks), “My Worst Habit”

Have you ever felt as though something you've always known was suddenly foreign? That you no longer knew who you were, what you were doing, or perhaps even what you believed? More times than not, I would say one feels this way for a simple reason: they are evolving. There eventually comes a time when one's old values, beliefs, and way of doing things grow too stagnant and must be discarded. But the process of laying such things to rest can be terribly frightening and often painful. Society is rooted in tradition, and suddenly changing course is not always looked upon favorably. But I will tell you a secret from my own experience: doing so was the most liberating thing I have ever done.

It is not uncommon for a person who has walked the same path for so long to become disillusioned. I've found that such disillusionment grows at a steady drip, but we never really notice it until we're drowning in an ocean of it, with no sense of direction or end in sight. It becomes more and more apparent that the only way out of this inner desolation is just so—within the depths of ourselves. But to reach that sacred core we must begin tearing away at all the excess we've gathered, discarding every shred of the past that has started to fester and consume us. For some of these things, doing so may feel like a significant loss or even betrayal, so we take great care in releasing them with gratitude and tenderness. However, this is not always the case. This is perhaps one of the rarest moments in your life where you are utterly alone with yourself. It is very fitting that this experience has been coined the Dark Night of the Soul.

The phrase "Dark Night of the Soul" is attributed to Saint John of the Cross, a Carmelite priest and mystic of the sixteenth century. It originally referred to a spiritual crisis experienced by the devout on their path to union with God. That expression does do it justice, as a Dark Night feels as though one's link to the numinous is entirely severed, nearly to the point of abandonment. In magickal terminology, the experience is akin to Crossing the Abyss. Human beings are creatures of both light and shadow, order and chaos, so it falls to reason that one cannot experience a continuum of enlightenment or bliss without the mediation of ignorance and despair. However, I find that one does not have to be religious or spiritual to experience a Dark Night of the Soul.

A Dark Night of the Soul manifests as a period of psychological and spiritual stagnation that touches the very core of one's being. It is not a trial or punishment but rather a rite of passage, an ordeal to bring about psychocentric cohesion and evolution. In the pall of a Dark Night one experiences a profound sense of doubt surrounding the most significant aspects of their religious or spiritual practice and values. Every experience, connection, and victory find themselves prone to scrutiny. Where once stood great passion and intrigue, only dryness and insufficiency will reign.

"We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience." That is a quote that I've seen more often on metaphysical blogs and websites. Its source is disputed but is commonly attributed to Pierre Teilhard de Chardin in his book "The Joy of Kindness." The source of this quote is not the subject of this essay, but its nature—insofar as I understand it—is.

A Dark Night of the Soul is not an entirely spiritual phenomenon. Anyone can experience it under the right conditions. The seasoned author that can no longer bear to jot down a single passage, despite it being the only career that's ever ignited their passions. The sole survivor of a car crash, now faced with a life without their loved ones. The cloistered nun confronting the depth and breadth of eternity. The magician who, after years of education and prowess, is forced to face himself and his peerless degrees of contradictions.

Dark Nights are the culmination of a process often long-overdue. While they can be triggered by a profound experience or change in one's life, the necessary elements were already present; the significant trauma or conclusions drawn are merely the catalyst sufficient to dismantle one's outlook on life. While not always the product of severe trauma, the Dark Night of the Soul shares some of its symptoms. It should not be considered a case of cognitive dissonance but rather the instance of one's existential outlook being rendered inadequate or obsolete. The Dark Night of the Soul is an existential crisis derived from the singular act of being forced to face one's Shadow.

The Shadow is the aspect of the psyche associated with uncertainty and negativity. All that one would deny, ignore or repress is personified in the Shadow. What we do not appreciate within our Shadow we tend to project onto others; what we dislike about others, we dislike about ourselves. The process of integrating the Shadow in this way mirrors what some attribute to "ego-death" or, to be more precise, the dissolution of the former or transitory aspects of one's being into the sum composite of the Self. This occurs through what I can describe as forceful submergence into one's Shadow, the horrible aspects of the unconscious made strenuously conscious. The experience is comparable to the tribulation of Pandora, for once unleashed so thoroughly, these demons cannot be suppressed.

“Upon the dark road you are traveling, do not seek out the light, the illusion, the fallacy and incessant need for all things external. Have no fear, take the darkness as your comfort because you are the light shining in the dark. You just need to find the spark.”

- L.J. Vanier, Ether: Into the Nemesis

The Dark Night of the Soul can be an utterly egregious and painful experience; during my first and second ventures, I made several considerations at taking my own life. The Abyss can either herald great awakenings or consume the aspirant entirely. I do not find that human beings are inherently flawed or born with sin. We are each an unfoldment into the expanse of completion. Just as Michelangelo sought to bring forth his angels from within the marble, so too is the human being a nexus in the process of becoming.

Central to the Dark Night of the Soul is a period of stumbling through overgrown paths. I would argue that some of the primary purposes of life are growth and learning, for human beings have always been compelled to seek out the truth underlying the forbidden, uncover the mysteries of the universe, and wander in the dark in search of themselves.

A Dark Night of the Soul is a uniquely transformative yet traumatic experience. Severe trauma and loss leave a shock to one's system. In their wake, one is often left with two choices. First, they can become bitter and resentful, clouding their perception with the view that the world is a terrible, unjust place and that humanity is an irredeemably cruel species. In this mindset, nothing can be improved, and any attempts at closure are washed away with the incoming tide. However, it is possible to channel feelings of grief or misfortune into something more productive, such as helping others or improving oneself. These negative attributes can be welcomed into our conscious self in doing so.

If I could go back in time and give one word of advice to my younger self as he was drowning in that murky ocean, I would tell him to be kinder to himself. The process of a Dark Night is often what I would consider a purge. Not only did I find myself disavowing old beliefs and values, but I also began sorting through my possessions and re-evaluating relationships. One learns a great deal about themselves and the sphere of their life in such disconnect and isolation.

I was once told a fitting parable given to a friend by a female shaman. Every year on the cusp of winter, the bear retreats to the solitude of a cave. Surrounding himself in mulch and soft earth, he begins to hibernate until such time that the sun returns and the earth awakens from her slumber. As the bear emerges from the murky depths of his cave, he finds himself in a world altogether different from the one he left behind. In such times of utter uncertainty and despair, sometimes the best thing we can do is become as the bear in the cave. In changing ourselves, we change our relation to the world.

There is an almost supernatural wisdom to be found in those who live closer to the heart of the cosmos. Medicine men and women, cunning folk, and healers are only part and parcel of a greater current of understanding. Is it any wonder that we gaze upon our grandparents as children in awe and wonder? They are immersed in the same sacred waters that we have only just emerged from, but, even more, they have lived! They have traversed such plateaus of light and darkness that our young minds can barely just fathom, and their stories, wisdom, and jokes fill us with joy and excitement for another tomorrow. Such, I have found, is life—regardless of age, there are always times to learn, dream, and retreat to the depths of inner space. There is always Work to be done.

In the Dark Night of the Soul, as in all aspects of life, gratitude is everything. A wise person once taught me that we should express nothing short of love for the parts of ourselves trying to kill us. I struggled with this initially. It is better to treat negativity with acceptance and rationality instead of revulsion, considering that these manifestations could be masking a greater truth. Just as people lash out when they are hurt or afraid, so too does the conscious mind react violently to the subversiveness of the Shadow. But if one were to approach these uncertainties—all of which are innate, mind you—with love and openness, the path to recovery can begin at a much smoother pace. That shift in awareness has helped me overcome one of the most challenging times in my life.

Embrace the rejected through gratitude. Viktor Frankl put this into his own words in his book Man's Search for Meaning, laying the foundation for logotherapy upon the principle of finding meaning in suffering. This powerful message illustrates that even the ugliest traumas have value, that we have value despite our worst experiences. No lesson or trauma is permanent; if you can learn something, you can without a doubt unlearn it and replace it with something else. It is when certitudes persist past their efficacy that we find ourselves suffering.

There is always a degree of meaning to be found in suffering or misfortune, though I would not go as far as to say that every pitfall must be regarded as a sign. Suffering is, by design, not intended to be permanent. It is a reaction to extenuating pressure or imbalance, whether of the body or mind; such reactions are intended to be broken.

Apprehension of the Dark Night of the Soul is derivative of religion and secularism. An apt representation in scripture is found in 1 Corinthians 13:12, which says, "For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then I shall know even as also I am known." While I am not myself Christian, I understand that this passage states that all things are possible through the divine. I view it as a vivid illustration of the process of Crossing the Abyss and coming face-to-face with one's inmost Self, an experience from which there is no turning back.

The Abyss is an impartial maelstrom that rips away the disingenuous and superfluous, leaving only the authentic and essential in its wake, and at the heart of this storm is a looking glass into our immaculate entirety. One's emergence from the Dark Night of the Soul is very much a rebirth, one that can occur several times in a lifetime. It is an experience that leaves one feeling altogether lighter and bearing newfound confidence, serving as a reminder that our inner demons, such as they are, are not to be purged but instead confronted.

Imagine if your life up to the point of the Dark Night was a colorful painting, all of the hues and shades perfectly representing who you had become through hard work and investment. You believed that this was the real "you," the most authentic version that has existed thus far. Then the canvas gets coated with egregious black ink, almost like the beginning of a very long, arduous wake-up call. After so long, you only have the memory of that colorful painting representing your once upon a time. You become detached from reality; how far this spirals will be proportionate to how deeply you were invested in your canvas.

Eventually, you start to notice shapes and colors in the inky darkness. The murk in your mind begins to clear as some unseen alchemy begins to bring definition to your inner chaos. The cold becomes more bearable, and the psychic torment starts to wane. You will start to feel lighter, more genuine. You had previously thought that you were less than who you once were, and while this was practically true, you've been looking at it all wrong. It wasn't that you used to be more, but that you once had far greater excess.

Suddenly, slowly the colors start to become noticeable again until the plethora upon your canvas is before you once again. The colors are different from what you remember, seemingly so long ago. They are no longer merely qualitative or expressive strokes upon your canvas. As you pay close enough attention, you reach into the depths of their nature, and it is almost as if you can hear them. This seems remarkable to you, as though you see your life with fresh eyes, and for a time, you experience a state of genuine bliss.

Comparing the venture through the Dark Night of the Soul to a storm is not inaccurate. By their very nature, storms are created due to imbalance and will continue until their energy and momentum are redistributed. In this case, a Dark Night will continue until a particular lesson is internalized. I have noticed through my own experiences that the wisdom attained has been diametrically opposed to my overall experience.

I have had three significant spiritual awakenings to date, each one preceded by a Dark Night of the Soul. These awakenings have greatly improved my quality of life, changed how I interact with the world, and redefined my spiritual practice. Simply put, they are:

1. Be true to your inmost Self.

A recurring theme in Aleister Crowley's Book of the Law is the correspondence between the True Will of the inner cosmos and the momentum of the outer cosmos. When you exist in harmony with your true nature—that which has always shone within you and perseveres beyond the breath of the ego—the universe will rearrange itself to accommodate your Will. When you suppress your true nature, you will suffer. Put another way, if you approach a task with enthusiasm, others will notice this and resonate in kind. If you walk into a room assuming the worst, it's likely the worst will come to pass. Energy is fundamental to life, and we are life made aware of itself.

2. Death is not something to be feared.

It's entirely possible that after experiencing two of the worst years of my life, my psyche became flooded with the idea of death, thus desensitizing me to the notion. However, I began communicating with one of my spirit guides during this time. I discovered that rather than torment or shame, traumatized souls are met with healing and compassion regardless if their death was self-inflicted—a sentiment that is heavily shunned in the western world, serving only to contribute to a culture rooted in preserving shame. Since then, I have read over a dozen books on the subject. My appreciation for the gift of life has only grown. Try to imagine for just a moment the sensation of a lifetime of weight being lifted from one's shoulders or the first genuine breath taken in what felt like decades, not from an act of aggression but one of compassion. It is only when one releases their hold on something that they can begin to grasp its value. It was the next lesson that would teach me the gravity and importance of a life.

3. You are loved.

At the time, I assumed I had replaced one benighted existence for another. And yet, it turned out to be a gift beyond measure. Circumstances had forced me to let go of a great many certitudes as I found myself caring for my dying father. The last of my self-constructed walls began to strip down, leaving only my Self in the wake of undoing. I was faced with the most humbling of truths, that regardless of how I had been treated or how I learned to speak to myself, I was still capable of giving love—and receiving it. I learned with absolute certainty that all things under the sun are wont to perish, save for the iridescence of love. Love isn't merely something waiting to awaken, but rather something resonating throughout each moment. The strength and degree of its resonance at any given moment depends entirely upon us. It was here that I found myself truly understanding what Viktor Frankl meant when he committed these words to paper:

"Man can preserve a vestige of spiritual freedom, of independence of mind, even in such terrible conditions of psychic and physical stress... Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."

"Love goes very far beyond the physical person of the beloved. It finds its deepest meaning in his spiritual being, his inner self. Whether or not he is actually present, whether or not he is still alive at all, ceases to be of importance."

Every choice and reaction are, knowingly or not, weighed against the fulcrum of Love and Fear. These are not scales by which we are condemned to a lake of fire but rather the lens through which we find ourselves. Love yourself, and you shall find the capacity to love others uninhibited. Forgive yourself, for the most egregious burdens are those shouldered from within.

While sounding somewhat clichéd, these simple truths were strenuous for me to truly apprehend after a lifetime of trauma. These realizations were reinforced by twenty years of study and spiritual practice. I did so much research during these periods, desperately trying to understand what these experiences were wont to tell me. I desperately sought answers during these times, as I know others likely will be. I am writing this in the hope that my experiences can help others.

No matter how dark things seem, don't give up. There is always a light above your dark ocean, always a sun outside your cave. You'll find that your thoughts and actions carry more weight than your negative thoughts might allow you to witness. Each of us is unique, irreplaceable, and beyond value. Find meaning in your sorrow, embrace your scars with pride, for they have served to create a stronger, more perceptive person. Many individuals who enter healing professions do so because they have suffered themselves. It is the greatest act of love to help another suffering through the same ordeal that you once did. Believe in yourself, and all else will follow.

“So through endless twilights I dreamed and waited, though I knew not what I waited for. Then in the shadowy solitude my longing for light grew so frantic that I could rest no more, and I lifted entreating hands to the single black ruined tower that reached above the forest into the unknown outer sky. And at last I resolved to scale that tower, fall though I might; since it were better to glimpse the sky and perish, than to live without ever beholding day.”

- Howard Phillips Lovecraft, The Outsider

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