The Twilight Cleric & Musings on the Night
I owe many of my thoughts shared here to David Whyte and his book, “Crossing the Unknown Sea.” Cross posting from reddit.com
The day shouts at us. It shouts its opinions, it’s demands. The constant voices everywhere, the busy hours that we pack as full as we can, and then scrap them. We often live lives with no pause, no rest, like the background hum of our car engine. Doing, followed by doing, followed by more doing, we never stop to breathe. An endless Twitter feed, always more Instagram photos to like. This is the the domain of the day.
But the night is different. The Twilight Cleric knows this. She is the voice of the night. We would do well to heed her.
She serves not the gods of the day, with their endless toil; she serves that gentle repose of Lady Night. She begs us to pause, to note the rest in-between the notes. Her deep vision, even in the darkest places, allows the Priestess of Twilight to see what only she can see. That night isn’t wasted time, whose only purpose is to re-energize us for the next day, charging us like the phones to which we cleave. The night is to be valued in itself, as a descent into an unspoken realm of rest.
Most don’t have the eyes to see this. So the Twilight Cleric imparts this to her companions, illuminating their vision, reminding them that the night is a friend, not an enemy. She knows that in the night we can do things that weren’t possible during the day. That the rest of night brings us levity as the clinging weights of the day are released… and we begin to fly. We hover over the din of day… if we let night have its full effect.
In this night, we find a sanctuary of twilight, a shroud that expels the vain work of day to bring the exhale to our hearts that we desperately need. The night, and night alone, has the power of pause to break the enchantment of the day. Within this sanctuary of night, we expire, only then to awake with resilience and strength. Then the music of our lives finally returns.
—
Night
Here I begin the cycle of the day
not with the blazing light of morning
but with the cool repose of night,
the darkness a quieting veil over my heart.
The world exhales.
Night whispers to me: “Pause.”
A reminder that life is a rhythm,
a symphony both of notes and rest.
It quiets the noise of the world
lit up with bright screens, loud voices,
a never ending slot machine.
Until I’m broke.
Then, the night calls me with her cool voice
back into her quiet, restful arms.
I descend, entombed between sheets and mattress,
dying once again,
only to be reborn anew in the warmth of morning light.
Resurrected to new life once again.
— -
May the night bring you some solace during these tumultuous times.