When one enters into the Dark, the story becomes untellable. Our experiences there defy the rational. Words, and words alone, fail to penetrate into what is aqueous and thus, soluble. Ever-changing, ever-moving, intangible, formless—feeling. Feeling is to the underworld what sight is to the topside world. And, what is felt is not easily seen or said. However, in these posts I will leave you with words and practices taken from a journal which chronicles my descent into the Dark and captures the teachings of darkness & Nature’s cycles.

 The Dark is not only bringer of pain, sickness, chaos, and confusion; but mother, healer and fertile loam. The words here are the shards of light and pearls of wisdom that were unearthed through my travels along the inner landscape of myself and the deep interior of the earth. This journal was, for many treacherous months, a place of solace while I existed submerged beneath the surface, plastered to the earth for shelter. Incapable of holding myself up (although I tried for many years), I fell and broke and entered into the depths that hold the other half of life. To come to know darkness, is to come to know life. To bend, is to let the flow of life breathe through you.

In essence, the Dark is the place of roots and remembrance, the place we return to heal and whole. The photos in these posts were all taken from my childhood home, the place I returned to again and again in my healing process. This home, like my body, holds the memory of all that I am and all that I have been.