Posts Tagged with darkness

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burrowing

When the world is too much for me (or I’m too much for the world!), I burrow down, down, down into a place of warmth and darkness with stuffed bunnies and bears. I rub my hands over their soft fur, align myself with their namesakes winter patterning and retreat for awhile from a world that is too cold and harsh to feel liveable. In these moments of quiet conservation of energy, with the external noise of the day at a minimum, I can finally begin to hear myself — my body, my mind, my heart, my internal wisdom. And though not a full hibernation (neither rabbits nor bears actually hibernate either), I emerge from my warm burrow refreshed and refuelled enough to carry on.

— heidi kalyani, 2018 
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line

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waking up

In this shut-tight sealed-in half-asleep state in the first rays of light, my limbs ache from gripping, my brain aches from looping, my heart aches from lack of air. In the darkness that surrounds me, with the blankets pulled up high, I can believe anything — the world is on fire, I live in a house made of ice, my siblings are four-legged, my hair is olive green, no one is starving, we’re all starving. And what I believe (or don’t believe) becomes my reality. It etches itself into my still-impressionable being and colours how my day unfolds. Alone, in this cocoon of a bed, as I wrap myself in imaginings, in futuristic predictions, in half-digested memories, I enter into a powerful transition, an emerging from the other side, the swirling fog of a half opened/half closed mind, the daily practice of awakening.

— heidi kalyani, 2018 
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line

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your light

“I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.” — Hafiz

Your radiance is sometimes fierce, fiery, abundant, sometimes fragile and flickering. One day it’s a golden Garuda, with a full set of glowing wings and talons bigger than our combined hands, or an all-consuming bonfire that purifies and illuminates everything within reach of its smoke, heat and light. Another day it’s the gentle glint off a bread knife at the breakfast table, the mellow glow of a nearly submerged candle, the sun peeking out from behind heavy clouds. But your radiance is always with you, always available to you, even when it’s feeling quiet or shy, when it’s been nearly stamped out by someone else’s unresolved anger or fear, or when it’s so buried within you that you can’t see a way forward anymore. It doesn’t burn out, or expire, or abandon people who are tired and hurting. It just slips into energy-saving mode from time to time to regenerate, to find fresh fuel, to borrow from the sun. But I know (and Hafiz knew all those years ago) that the light of your being is still astonishing, even if you’re overwhelmed by a wave of seemingly unending darkness or a loneliness that stings so much it’s only bearable when you close your eyes.

— heidi kalyani, 2017 
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line

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cold dusk

Sometimes in the stark loneliness of cold winter dusk, I reach under my wool shawl and rest my hand on the tender place between my ribs and my hip bone, wishing it was your hand there instead. I like the feel of you, the warmth and weight, the subtlety of pressure that wants, offers, and waits to be wanted before offering more. I like the wide-eyed way you look at me, as if there is a wild story written on my body, as if while blinking you’re afraid I’ll disappear. I like the resonance of your laughter, the ease with which it sinks into my skin, slips into my veins and swirls around inside me, nourishing, healing, sparking all kinds of happenings I’ve only dreamed of before. I like imagining you at a window, staring into the grey and pink streaked sky, waiting for the kettle to boil, and feeling my presence so strongly that you make two cups of tea instead of one.

— heidi kalyani, 2017 
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line

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big stringy mess

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There’s a monster in your heart — screaming out to me, flirting with me, shooting flares through your eyes when it thinks you’re not looking. But I see it. I feel it. I hear it. I know it’s there. It’s a large, agonizing mess of millions of long sticky black threads. There’s a thread of self-doubt, of self-loathing, of self-punishment. A thread for flesh wounds, for emotional wounds, for intellectual ones. There’s a thread for each of the harsh words someone has spoken to you. For all of the relationships that started so hopefully, but didn’t work out. One for each time you shut down instead of opening up. A long one for the times you thought you were “right” but “failed” anyway. A whole bundle dedicated to not feeling heard. Another created by feeling misunderstood. A whole sub-section devoted to fear. This sticky, black mass is sneaky and stealthful, trying to shame you, trying to convince you that it’s not normal, natural, or even necessary to have this kind of darkness inside you. But it is! It’s part of you! Embrace your darkness — just don’t let it take over. Ignore its hungry cries for more fuel. It only wants to make a bigger wall around your heart. Instead, cut away a few loose ends, trim back a few strings, untangle a whole unneeded section. Give yourself some breathing room and let your heart shine through!

— heidi kalyani, 2016
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line

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inner darkness

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I can see your darkness, even when you think you’ve turned it off, buried it, super-hero-invisiblated it… And I’m not afraid. There is nothing you can do or say that will really hurt me. Deeply. Surface scratches can easily be polished away with a soft cloth and some gentle pressure. Your actions and words today were heavy and harsh, and I’m tired and bruised, but not broken. Don’t deny your darkness. It’s the other side of light. It’s the rich compost that nurtures new life. It’s powerful and full of potential. It’s part of you… And when I first laughed with you, first shared tea with you, looked you in the eye without blinking for that initial eternity, I knew there would be dark bits mixed in. Confusing bits. Unhappy-I’d-rather-not-see-you-today-bits. I’m fine with that. I expect it. It’s part of being whole. Of being human. And part of what I want to share with you. For my dark bits need some love and understanding too.

— heidi kalyani, 2016
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line