The Dark

Another wave of Darkness. 

How Dark can things get?  

This morning, I wake up to the horror happening in Tumbler Ridge, BC, a shooting that involves a school, students, real people, in a small community, in Canada. It could have been here, in Pouch Cove, NL 7000 km on the otherside of Canada. Collectively, as Canadians, we hold on to the thread of hope that we are not like our neighbours to the south in terms of such violence. But we know the roots are here, too. And this event confirms that. As does every other event from the past few weeks, months, years.  The massacre in Iran, the ICE kidnappings and killings in the US, the hidden atrocities in Sudan and South Sudan, Gaza and Israel, Ukraine and Russia, and the insidious embargo against Cubans. 

I’ve been studying the impact of Dark on myself since Chief Joe encouraged me to take a walk in the Dark. Intentionally walking out into the Dark begins to shape me. I enter the woods on the path I walk in the light, daily. Instinctively, I look down at my feet to ensure I don’t trip on a root or rock, only to find, I can’t see my feet, the path, the roots, or the rocks. Stopping, I wait for my eyes to adjust. They don’t, but I take tentative steps forward, convinced that surely my feet will recognize the way. They don’t, and I catch myself when my feet betray me. I stop again. Take a deep breath in, letting the Dark be Dark, letting it wrap itself around me. I look up. And I laugh. There, the tops of the trees against a cloud-filled dark sky, part slightly to show the path beneath my feet. I move forward carefully, navigating by looking up, not down. The way is still there.  

Recently, at RFNL, we’ve had the privilege of facilitating some workshops. Each seems to occur as yet another wave of Darkness hits, and someone mentions the difficult times we are in. “There’s no roadmap for times like this,” the early childhood educator says, struggling to make a plan for how to be with the little ones and their families.  

“You are right,” I respond.  

An international graduate student says, sadly, “It’s such a Dark time.”  

“It is,” I say.  

As I walk in the early dawn, navigating roots and rocks in the half-darkness, bringing to mind my relationship with people, real people, from each of these corners of the earth and remembering their comments, I say out loud to myself, “Even though it's dark, even though there is no map for time like this, that doesn’t mean the path is not there.” 

Later in the week, as we sat in a Circle on Campus with a group of 8, we shared thoughts on “navigating tough times in our daily lives.”  By the end, I reflect, “It feels like we just sat together in the Darkness for a while.”  Collectively, we nod in agreement, and then seem to look up and discover the dim path laid out for us in the tops of the trees. We were ready to go on, strengthened because we had allowed the Darkness to embrace us, only to discover we were not alone, and the path was still there. 

What is this path that is ‘still there’? 

It’s the core belief that all of life is worthy and interconnected. This is not unique to RFNL. It is foundational to the UN Declaration of Human Rights, UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. It is foundational to many of the world’s religions and Indigenous cultures. It is foundational to life. 

What is happening that so many of us feel lost, feel afraid, feel confused?  Could it be that  we haven’t taken the time to reflect on whether we actually believe that “all of life is worthy and interconnected!” OR that we haven’t taken the initiative to say it aloud and say it publicly? 

The times are Dark and there are no roadmaps for the way forward. But the path each of us knows deep within–that I am worthy and interconnected, you are worthy and interconnected, we are worthy and interconnected, LIFE is worthy and interconnected–is still there. We need only to take small steps forward in this direction. 

How Dark can things get? 

Never so dark that there is no path.