In praise of darkness

About 12 years ago i woke at 3:00 one morning to climb a mountain with a group of friends. I was working at a camp in NH for the summer and we wanted to climb Mt. Monadnock to see the sun rise. This was a climb I had done every year since I was about 6 or 7. We arrived at the bottom of the mountain, 5 of us, 2 flashlights. We trudged forward 2 beams to show us where to put our feet, and by sunrise we were at the top. As we watched the sunrise, my one friend, recovering from mono said, "katie, I never would have made it if I would have seen what was ahead of me, because of the dark and that one beam of light which showed me where to place my foot, I made it to the top."

The memory of this morning, the dark, all of our fears as we started to trudge up the mountain, the sunrise at the top, it replays in my mind. I find myself now in a similar place. I have a mountain to climb. And if I do it in daylight with my eyes wide open, I will be too afraid to continue. The tasks ahead will overwhelm me. The fear of exhaustion and failure would make it impossible to continue. So I praise the dark. I realize that right now I need just a beam of light. I cannot look up. The monsters in the woods would terrify me and are mostly of my own making.

On monday I met with my spiritual director, a sister of st. joseph, who is kind and the best listener I have yet to encounter. We talked about the challenges ahead. The steps forward and all she said was do not lift the light beyond your feet. Walk forward and trust the path. Trust the path.

I have always been afraid of the dark but it seems, that now, in the midst of a huge life change darkness is what I need. Sometimes ignorance can be the gift which moves us forward. I praise the dark, as we enter this season of light.

"That commitment..."

"That commitment may grow slowly, sprouting from the rich compost of experience accumulated deep within us."

I was just reading over some old blogs. It was good to read what I felt was important to share. And then I found this. When I shared it, I focused on the second part..."the rich compost of experience" but this time, I read these words and was struck by something entirely different. "That Commitment may grow slowly..."

It is commitment which comes from that rich compost of experience. Commitment. This struck me. This year I have been unable to commit to anything. I want to farm. I want to be in community. I want to have direction, but can't seem to take a leap. I left a farm with rich, rich experience and have landed in Baltimore. This good, good city which may not be where I belong.

"Committment may grow slowly"...well I always seem to master the slowly part. I think it may be why I like growing food, it is slow. The seeds take their time, they really do not like being rushed. but it is time. A new growing season will be upon us. We are in advent a time for hope.

I've given notice on my apartment. I need to be out by February 1rst. I do not yet know exactly where I am going, but I am leaving this transitional space, i need to say yes to something. So I am choosing. I say yes to farming, yes to bees, yes to rural life. I mourn that i will loose the friendships this city provides easy access to. I mourn that rural life makes community harder, but I must say yes to farming.

So may this "commitment grow slowly, sprouting from the rich compost of experience accumulated deep within me."