There is a moment between breathing in and breathing out, between laughter and tears, between death and life, and always between darkness and light. It is only a gasp, only a glimmer, only a moment. But inside that moment lives all that ever was and the hope of all that will come. It is the shape of that moment that directs our hearts and hands, a shape that determines the length of light (life).
The introduction in my book, “The Length of Light”: To every person who has gasped when the sun-warm places are completely swallowed by the dark and there is no hope for a new day, and then (hold on wait for it . .. ) watched in awe as the hole of cold darkness reaches from the earth to meet the rising sky and begins gulping life into its infinite cavern.
It is so important, however, that we should never rush the darkness. We must be patient and let the light come in its own time, erstwhile we squander the gifts we’ve learned in the darkness.
John O’Donohue in his book “Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom“ shares: “The world rests in the night. Trees, mountains, fields, and faces are released from the prison of shape and the burden of exposure. Each thing creeps back into its own nature within the shelter of the dark. Darkness is the ancient womb. Nighttime is womb- time. Our souls come out to play. The darkness absolves everything; the struggle for identity and impression falls away. We rest in the night.”
“Anam Cara” and Mr. O’Donohue’s book “Beauty” are must reads if we hope to cultivate the moment. These are guidebooks to allowing ourselves to slow down and live in the moment–whether dark or light–and to find the beauty and wisdom of both.