Half Darkness, Half Light
The other evening I was taking a pause after a long day of work around our property. I looked towards the west and noticed the slightest sliver of a moon, just shy of Cheshire smile, sitting above the horizon. It was a clear night, so I could see not only the part of the moon that was illuminated, but also the darkened outline of the rest of its circular face. It would have been easy to miss it if I hadn’t slowed down enough to notice. Like so many things, we tend to notice and to accentuate the parts that appear the brightest. Just as we notice the flowers when they are in bloom, but don’t recognize the plant when the flowers have fallen, we tend to fixate on the flashiest moments: The birthday balloons, the ribbon wrapped present, the vacation. The rest of the days seem unremarkable by comparison. But so much of life’s magic exists in the spaces in between. Though we are less likely to notice the moon when its face is darkened, the whole moon is always there.
When we can’t see a thing it is as if it doesn’t exist, but the moon is always half light and half dark. It is simply our perspective that allows us to see it. If we remember that when a person or a thing appears darkened, there is still a part of it that is enlightened. We just might not be able to see it. This is a central truth of most spiritual traditions: That even a person that is down and out, or seems unloveable is anchored in an unchanging perfect soul. Even when we feel broken and ashamed, it is just half of the story. Even a day that feels hopelessly darkened and difficult is just one angle of a bigger picture. When we work on widening our gaze, we begin to see more fullness and possibility. We can begin to invite in the larger parts that may be hiding in the shadows of old trauma and dramas.
"The moon said to the stars, do not look at my dark side for it is unseen by me, and unworthy of love. And the stars said, I see your darkness and light and love your contrasting nature."
Rumi
Eventually we begin to not only accept the darker parts of life, but we begin to embrace them. After all the darkness is where the seeds germinate and where the dreams take place. The darkness holds the roots that anchor and nourish even the tallest of tress. When we see darkness not as an enemy of the light, but as a natural counterpoint, our perspective changes. We no longer fear or feel a need to fight it, we begin to simply sink into that part which informs and incubates dreams. We settle into an invitation of deeper rest. We can access the other half of the whole. This view is a central theme of Taoist philosophy; that life is really not a clear struggle of day vs night, or good vs evil. Each part of a person or experience offers an opportunity to realize a more full and complete life. Even when darkness feels uncomfortable or unsavory, it can be quite useful to be curious about what is germinating in that place.
I like to look for the moon on most nights. Even just a brief communion is enough to remind me of the essential truth of Yin and Yang: That every part of our existence is there for a reason. It is perfect interplay of darkness and light.