Singing at the Edge of Water and Darkness

Standing on the edge of what we do not know, we call it darkness.

Before the raging river, without a bridge, we call it dangerous.

And if we stand before the rapids in the dark of night,

we may find we call it wisdom.

*****

My voice is not devoid of self, though I long to, as much as possible, listen and receive what wants to come through me. And so, this is a practice in sharing a voice that has received something from the world that it wants to share. In some ways, it scares me. Because I don’t always know what this voice is or where it will take me, and yet its pull upon my heart moves me forward.

What we do not know, we often fear. We are afraid of the dark that lies beyond the mind. Still, a part of us knows that we cannot grow without the sightless holding of Earth and womb. Though it seems we are afraid of what lies beyond darkness, we are really afraid of the unknown journey towards it. The current of the journey runs beneath our knowing, and we inevitably find ourselves pulled along—in the flow of a river—whose destination we have only ever heard by name: the Sea.

But what happens in that moment before you enter the stream? The anxiety, profound. Your heart: racing. And yet, and yet.

Something pulls you along.

You could call it a deeper knowing—a knowledge beyond knowledge, one that transcends fear with a deeper, truer known. It is this—when listened to deeply—that we call wisdom.

Mind you, I am not advocating that we blindly jump into raging rivers at night.

I am advocating for myself, and for all of us, to listen to that deeper knowing. As a society, we are standing at the edge of water and darkness, and we know that we do not know, and we fear what lies ahead. But we have heard of the Sea, and our hearts pull us forward. If we could, I would invite us to stand exactly where we are, and sing to the night and the waters, and the stars up above. To sing our not-knowing and cry out with longing. Even if it is only in your heart.

It seems to me that only this can move us forward: to be attuned to ourselves, receiving the waters of our own soul, standing firm upon the Earth even within darkness. This is trust, and it is where every endeavor must begin.

So I have received.

I am to journey forth, at the edge of water and darkness.

Come, join me.

I have sung here the first note, and I will be here singing for a while.

-A Desert Wind