I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light

—Lord Byron

 

When the dark time comes, when it swallows us whole, what do we do? Do we revel in it? Or do we cower in terror?

Darkness evokes a primal fear that even the most rational adults can’t completely banish. Whether it’s the outer darkness that shrouds the world at night or the inner darkness that clouds our spirit, we’re always fighting to keep the dark at bay. With artificial lights. With bottles and pills. With platitudes and prayers. Resistance to darkness seems to stem from some potent ancestral memory encoded in our DNA.

But darkness can’t be held down for long. It presses in on us, gathering its shadows at the edges of our lamplight. It waits for its chance, for the lights to flicker, to swell up and reclaim its territory. The more we hide from darkness, the more powerful its hold on us.

Our terror of darkness runs so deep, the gods sometimes use it to threaten and punish the world. Darkness was one of the ten biblical plagues Yahweh inflicted on Egypt in attempt to free the Israelites from slavery.

Then the LORD said to Moses, “Stretch out your hand toward the sky so that darkness will spread over Egypt—darkness that can be felt.” So Moses stretched out his hand toward the sky, and total darkness covered all Egypt for three days. No one could see anyone else or leave his place for three days.

—Exodus 10:21–23

We’ve entered the dark time of the year—and a dark time for humanity. All the darkness we’ve denied within ourselves is rising up and staking its claim, and there’s no telling what ghouls may manifest within it. Renewed persecution, maybe. Nuclear war, maybe.

What I do know is that these ghouls aren’t the product of darkness itself. They arise from our fear of it. By fearing the boogeyman, we create it for ourselves. Sometimes we even become it for others.

Samhain is a time for staring down our fear of the dark—for acknowledging our own inner boogeyman so we don’t unconsciously manifest it. When we revel in our fear and uneasiness, we feel alive in a whole new way. Our fear reminds us of our beating hearts and coursing blood and rhythmic breath. When we embrace the darkness, it comes alive with magic and energy and healing.

Here are some of the reasons why I love the dark:

1. Darkness forces us to see with our other senses.

2. Darkness reveals the stars.

3. Darkness is where healing and growth happen.

4. Darkness hides us when we need cover.

5. Darkness opens our vulnerability to the unseen.

6. Darkness connects us to our primal nature.

7. Darkness swallows the distractions that speed up time.

8. Darkness opens a portal to the Otherworld.

9. Darkness lets us know when it’s time to rest.

10. Darkness adds depth and texture to the world.

11. Darkness comes in infinite varieties, from a dry tomb to a rainy night.

12. Darkness cloaks our secrets.

13. Darkness nurtures the seed of creation.

14. Darkness leads us to the source of our power.

What do you love most about the dark?

 

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Featured image by Marcelo Zurita—Abraçando as Estrelas, CC-BY-SA 4.0