Sounds like you've had a rough time of it, Sister. Thank you for sharing some of your struggles with us. It's always heartening to hear of the saving power of love.

I'm not sure I understand what you mean by the following, however: He finished off pulling me out of the darkness by sending my my twin brother and angel, my guardian. You re-connected with an estranged brother?

Dear Sister LionHeart,

Deeply was I touched by your story and your inner strength and courage. Do you consider your husband to be your twin brother, angel, and guardian?. If so, could you please share more on this. Also how is your panic disorder treated?. Much love to you

"What kept me alive in the dark time was knowing that God was there, that no matter how hard I tried giving up faith and living as atheist my heart couldnt say no to God."


Nicely put. Our hearts are always doing this, aren't they?

I'm glad you brought attention back to this thread and thus SisterLionHeart's story, WC. And what a story. Lots of "dark" in that. And lots of soul as well. I hope SLH is doing fine.

I�m going to ignore Merton�s advice about not sharing every little problem we happen to run into.

I had sort of a Dark Weekend of the Soul. It was more than just a run-in with depression. Frankly, I don�t know what it was, but for a while there it was like existentially experiencing not just my own emotions but reality itself. And it was as if I saw what reality is, or could be, without any connection to anything, as if every molecule and particle in creation was on its own, disconnected, apart, separate. To say that this was painful is an understatement. It occurred to me that that is what hell could be like, if I believed in hell, which I don�t. But the feeling was palpable that this experience was at least a bit more than just about me. If y�all are correct in how this universe is put together, then it may have been a message, a shot across the bow, as it were. And it�s not that I haven�t experienced any Dark Nights before. Hardly. That pretty much describes the last 30 years. But this was such a solid, massive onslaught that it stood our starkly against even this backdrop. Fascinating. And formative.

If you feel the urge, elaborate as you see fit. I know..it's hard to articulate, but just if it strikes you to do so.

Blessings,
Terri

I know..it's hard to articulate, but just if it strikes you to do so.

LOL, Terri. You�re being so sensitive and kind because that�s the way you are. But you said my favorites words "Tell me more, blabbermouth!"

I have been to the gates of hell in terms of Dark Nights, although I had not heard of that term until fairly recently, at SP. My deepest hope, Terri, is that there is somebody out there (who is a lot more shy than me, obviously) who is thinking "Nobody can even imagine what I�m going through." Well, unless you�re having hormonal flashes, backaches, and the desire to urinate every five minutes because of a pregnancy, I can relate, believe me. And I find it extremely interesting that this process has been defined or rationalized (I�m really not sure which it is) by Christian mystics as a purifying process for the soul. Talk about being handed lemons and making lemonade. That�s pretty much the ultimate expression of that, I think.

To me, Dark Nights are sort of like landing on flypaper; the more you struggle the more tired and frustrated you get as well as the more stuck you get. And from my not very wide knowledge of this phenomenon, it seems it can be difficult to distinguish between depression, aridity, lethargy, and other emotional states or states of being. But I think the gist is that if one doesn�t freak out, and one understands that one�s chassis is being lubed and one�s oil is being changed, that one can just stay in it and actually find some peace and meaning in it. It can be a base from which to work, from which to move out. Once one has been in a Dark Night and not freaked out then the attitude can be "onward and upward", that one has nowhere to go but up. And I think that�s true.

For me this recent episode left me absolutely thirsting for community of some type. We�ll see how that goes. And it was such a hard hit that it was like sticking my finger in a light socket. I don�t want to go there again. I don�t want to ever even think about losing hope, turning to atheism, or whatever. To have been able to descend to such a dark place and to touch it is, from my point of view, a way to gain some hard-earned knowledge and experience of something that somewhat touches us all. Yes, it�s hard to articulate. It�s hard to talk about because most people, and probably rightly so, don�t want to talk about such things. But those things are there nonetheless and no one need feel isolated or alone, let alone feel like a freak.

I'll comment more later, but for now, I'll just post this (it's something I wrote once when I knew a dark night was coming):

the mountaintop

And so it would appear, then, that love is upon the mountain top,
Shrouded in fog that whirls and dips to engulf all things that approach it.
It�s but a stone�s throw, it seems, to reach it,
Yet in looking closely there is a great chasm between it and I.

The journey seems daunting and the goal unreachable as I stand here.
My feet, like my heart , hesitate� unwilling to take the step needed to even begin,
And I am tired from even the thought of how long I must travel to get there.
Weariness fills me with a sense of foreboding that threatens to keep me immobile.

Do I stay, do I go? Do I wish to reach it, am I content to leave it there?
Questions and more questions go through my mind as I try to decide.
And I start to shake at the remembrance of taking this journey before.
So much pain there�.and so much joy. And still I hesitate.

I must decide, there is no-one who can make the choice but me.
I must decide if it is worth it. What seems a simple task is making me breathless.
But the mountain top beckons me with it�s whispering voice of promise.
It woos me with the mystery of the unknown trek between us, the mountain and I.

What is it that I should do? Can anyone tell me with certainty that I will succeed?
Alas, there is no way to know, no way to tell how many times I will fall.
So what is left, but to take that first step and begin.
Down into the chasm I must go, for it leads to the beauty of the mountain top.

I'm constantly amazed at the depth and creativity of each and every person. I've worked around the periphery of an industry where creativity is on display as a matter of course. It's normal. It's how many (other) people make their big bucks. And doing creativity on demand, to meet a marketing need, is no easy thing. My hat is off to those who can do so and do so regularly and with fine results. But I'm not nearly as moved by such practiced professionalism as I am by the poetry that seeps out of the pores of those for whom such things is a true matter of heart and heart alone. Terri, I'm impressed.

---

As if Phil doesn't have enough to do, let me make a suggestion (after the appropriate wavers are signed) that these poems be collected and published in a book. Profits could go toward the Good Nuns and to keep this site going.

I still want to comment about your post, but I'm having to think a little bit about it. Those dark times are so...intimate, I guess is the word I'm looking for. It's almost too sacred to approach in discussion, yet so much can be learned by discussing them sometimes.

Thanks for the kind words . Rarely do I keep anything I write. It generally goes from mind to paper to trash, or to someone it's meant for, but this one so encapsulated what it's always seemed to be like right before those times that I decided to hang on to it.

Blessings,
Terri

quote:

Those dark times are so...intimate, I guess is the word I'm looking for. It's almost too sacred to approach in discussion, yet so much can be learned by discussing them sometimes.

With that description, Terry, you leave me with little doubt that you have experienced the depths of some Dark Nights (like I'm some sort of expert�sheesh ). These nights are indeed intimate and personal. Well said. And I think that is surely because we're talking about stuff that makes E.D. (think "Viagra") seem like a proper topic of conversation at the dinner table in comparison. Dark Nights are inherently about very intimate details of our lives. It is about our greatest weaknesses, our most profound fears, and even our greatest and most cherished hopes and dreams. And I think Dark Nights are going to contain a number of details and thoughts that we're not going to be particularly proud of. We live in a society where we're supposed to "buck up," suck it up, and keep a stiff upper lip and all that. But a lot of our thoughts during a Dark Night are going to be of the "woe is me" variety. Hey, it ain't called a Dark Night for nuttin, eh?

A Dark Night is a humbling experience. We know we wouldn't be in a Dark Night if we were strong enough, capable enough, smart enough, etc. Half the reason I'm suspicious of the moniker of "Dark Night", that it's not all just some rationalization, is that it is very temping to try to slap a nice, reassuring, and respectable label on something that I think can be very humiliating. But there seem to be some experts out there who have definitely found more in it, so I'll bow to their expertise.

Rarely do I keep anything I write. It generally goes from mind to paper to trash, or to someone it's meant for, but this one so encapsulated what it's always seemed to be like right before those times that I decided to hang on to it.

I'm beginning to think we were separated at birth, Terri. I've done a lot of that. A lot of my writing is cathartic, but meant for no one but me. It can go in the trash when I am done writing it, and much of it has. But nothing truly gets thrown away. It's just the first drafts that are dispensed with. It all tends to come out eventually if in a little more refined form later � sometimes months or years later.

quote:

And I find it extremely interesting that this process has been defined or rationalized (I�m really not sure which it is) by Christian mystics as a purifying process for the soul.

I think it's probably a bit of both defining and rationalizing because we simply don't know how to relate this experience to others or even to ourselves in terms that fully explain what's happening. The mystics may have had some scripture like these in mind:

Pro 25:4 Take away the dross from the silver, and there shall come forth a vessel for the finer.

Isa 1:25 And I will turn my hand upon thee, and purely purge away thy dross, and take away all thy tin:

Mat 3:12 Whose fan is in his hand, and he will throughly purge his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner; but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.

It's all about doing away with that which is of no real importance, or that hinders us, or that veils what we are intended (needing) to see. There's a quote that says:
My barn has burned down, now I can see the moon.

Sometimes only the darkest times will make it possible for us to see the illumination of the "true" things we need and that are waiting for us.

quote:

To me, Dark Nights are sort of like landing on flypaper; the more you struggle the more tired and frustrated you get as well as the more stuck you get. And from my not very wide knowledge of this phenomenon, it seems it can be difficult to distinguish between depression, aridity, lethargy, and other emotional states or states of being.

Yes, and until some knowledge about what's happening to you comes to you, it might even seem like you're going a little bit crazy. That's why I'm so glad there are those out there who felt inclined to write about it.

quote:

It can be a base from which to work, from which to move out.

I'd say it is quite possibly the base from which to move out. And that, to me, explains why it is a more-than-one-time experience. Getting to the guts of who we are, what we're about, what God is showing us, etc. would be too much to handle in a one-time event...at least imho.

quote:

For me this recent episode left me absolutely thirsting for community of some type.

It is my opinion that we are created to be a part of a community. I think it is most profoundly stated in a couple of places in Genesis. First would be when God says that it is not good for man to be alone. The second place would be after Cain has killed Abel and God asks him where his brother is. Cain's question, and the unspoken answer, are just astounding....Cain asks..am I my brother's keeper? The reply which is not written has no need of being written because it is so obvious....yes, you are your brother's keeper. And that is true of all of us. We are indeed our brother's keeper, and one of the greatest tragedies over the centuries is that we have forgotten the blood ties of the family of humanity in general.

Just some beginning thoughts there . You may regret getting me started..lol!!

Blessings,
Terri

Though this verse isn't dealing with what we're talking about necessarily (although the verses preceding it could be seen to be an instruction of awakening), it is a verse I held on to for many years, and still do in times of drought/darkness:

Isa 58:11 And the LORD shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not.

It is something I know. The drought will come, but I will be watered and satisfied.

Blessings,
Terri

It's all about doing away with that which is of no real importance, or that hinders us, or that veils what we are intended (needing) to see.

I don't disagree, Terri. But we have to recognize that life is also about adding stuff to our lives. Life seems to be, in practical terms, a process of somewhat mindlessly, spontaneously, and somewhat recklessly forging ahead and doing stuff, adding stuff, and then taking a look back at what just we just did and just added. We seem to engage in this constant cycle of reassessing and refining so that we hopefully do better next time. We take a look at what worked and what didn't work. And complicating it all is that what worked last time perhaps shouldn't have worked, morally speaking, and what didn�t work last time perhaps deserved to work, morally speaking -- which is to say that sometimes we receive positive feedback for negative actions and negative feedback for positive actions. And then we're left (and we know this instinctively), through this vast imprecise confusion, to sort things out as best we can. And this is where hope contrasts itself from hopelessness; where trust contrasts itself from distrust. We make these delicate distinctions on nothing more than a precarious matter of good will. Sometimes counterfeits take the place of hope or trust and things regress for a time. But some ineffable quality of goodness, of human beings, rises to the challenge. We straighten things out. We learn to take away the dross�but always leave a bit with the silver lest we cut too harshly and deeply with our distinctions and thus make things worse than if we had made no distinctions at all.

Are you wearing your rubber suit again, Terri, because I sure feel that I bounced far. LOL.