The smallest amount of light can dissipate much darkness, but what is the danger of the darkness? I have to ask as we approach the twilight season, and the High Holy Day of Yom Kippur when light is cast into the beginning of the new year, what, pray, is wrong with the darkness? It is in the dark where our ideas are seeded, in the dark where they take root and begin the slow and earnest process of seeking a path toward the light. Long before the early blooms of spring flowers arrive, the dark womb of the earth holds space for life to move and shake beneath the surface. In this antipodal season of Autumn as the plants begin to wither and fall away, there is still ferocious life-force flowing, though slowing, beneath our skin. It is our work as yogis to honor an interval of less velocity by continuing to stoke the fires of life-force within. With practice, we learn to keep the deep channels open for prana to flow as our leaves begin to fall, so to speak.
It is the murk of unknowingness, the quieted senses harvested in stillness and meditation, and the screaming for change that swells from our darkest days that impels transformation. In the Hindu Goddess tradition, from Kali’s timeless, terrifying cave, Saraswati emerges. Saraswati’s pure course mothers inspiration, learned craft and arts, knowledge, clarity, intuition, and creativity. But the pulse, the drive to create is what comes before in the dank and quiet cave. In the predawn tickle of sounds and bare beginnings, harmony is formed. It is in these places of unfinished business, even untapped resource, that creativity dwells in her ferocious garb.
The just-before-moment, when words swell at the tip of your tongue is the time when yoga, a connectivity to the source and creative force of the Universe is most ripe. Enjoy the overcast, shadowed, and fearful caverns of imminent announcement that rise, curling like smoke from the slow-burning fires of verve within you. Settle in and enjoy the flavor as best you can, for without attuning to our deepest urges, the pleasure we experience on the outside is but a sprinkled on a shell. Cast loving light into the cave of your heart, your fear, and your silence and watch what rolls out from there, with each measured breath.
To your darkest hour, I bow.