The Bright Way. Diana Rowan

If I am used to relying on my intuition, am I ready to welcome the practical onto my journey?

       If I am used to being practical, am I ready to start reconnecting with my intuition?

       If I become stuck, am I ready to reach out for help? (Remember your list of allies from the Bright Way Activity on page 18.)

      If you answered yes to most or all of these questions, then you stand to get a lot out of our journey together. Learning new things and changing old habits can feel scary and uncomfortable. These feelings are actually auspicious signs showing that you’re growing, not simply retreading familiar ground. If you can embrace the above attitudes before we start, the shock of the new won’t be as severe and you’ll enjoy our trip far more.

      If you answered no to any of these questions, I encourage you to come along anyway! Which of the questions can you say yes to? Every journey starts from somewhere. Welcome to this new way of life, and thank you for giving it a try.

      Let Hildegard of Bingen be your ally going forward: “Dare to declare who you are. It is not far from the shores of silence to the boundaries of speech. The path is not long, but the way is deep. You must not only walk there, you must be prepared to leap.”

       The Bright Way Revelation

      Arriving where I am today was a messy, long, exciting, excruciating, and ecstatic process, featuring major pitfalls. That’s because I navigated without a dedicated guide, piecing together wisdom from sources both ancient and modern; dear teachers; feedback from beloved students, collaborators, and friends; and assistance from the mystery that is life itself.

      And here’s the most surprising thing of all: While I thought my biggest fear was of the unknown, of losing control, of being horrified by the darkness inside and around me, it turns out that darkness had been my friend all along. Darkness, my most cryptic ally, pointed me toward light and connection. Darkness showed me — and still shows me — the Bright Way.

       Darkness Faced

      What do I mean by “darkness”? I thought my darkness was my unspeakable fear that my life had no meaning. My nightmare that I was worthless unless I performed outstanding, heroic feats to justify my existence. My terror that perhaps I was not equipped to meet those challenges. I remember feeling literally dizzy with horror as those fears rose up to haunt me time and time again, undead and relentless. If you are experiencing any of these dreadful anxieties, I want to assure you right now that there is light at the end of the tunnel. But first we must face our darkness, face our unknown: redemption lies within. I am here with you, walking through these shadows, as we move toward a brighter path.

      I finally faced my greatest darkness in a most shocking manner. Once a year the oncology department at Oakland Children’s Hospital in California has a memorial for the children under their care who have died that year or any previous year. The parents and staff gather in a large room and share stories and pictures.

      This was my second time playing harp for this gathering, and although I’d found it emotionally challenging before, I thought I was strong enough to handle it once more. But this time, looking out at the sea of devastated parents, many of whom I recognized from the year before and looked as grief stricken as ever, combined with watching the heartbreaking slideshow of little children smiling in their hospital beds while hooked up to huge machines — some covered in bandages, many bald — catapulted me straight into the darkness I’d tried to avoid for so long.

      A tidal wave of grief poured over me, and although I was able to keep playing, I was crying almost uncontrollably. Life appeared a carnage of lost hope and meaninglessness. It was all I could do to get myself to the car, and shaking all the way home, I spent the next three days in a full-blown crisis. I couldn’t eat, drink, or sleep, and I trembled in literal mortal terror. Picturing all those sweet children gone forever, I felt I was teetering on a void of nothingness. I fought and fought the looming darkness, desperately pulling out my books by everyone from Thich Nhat Hanh to Starhawk to Hildegard, finding no comfort and no relief. I felt I was losing my mind.

      After three long days, exhausted on every level and at the end of my rope, I surrendered my fight. And there I lay, staring into the darkness of death with no fear. No fear, because I had nothing left to fight with. I entered the darkness and accepted that in all honesty perhaps there really is nothing. We live, we die, that’s it.

      And right at that moment I felt it! A little flame lit up inside my chest, merrily burning away. I leaped upright in the bed in one bound, laughing and crying and filling up with the bright energy of my little flame. I felt my soul shining within me, as it had always been doing. I felt my soul without a shadow of a doubt, and I knew it beyond any debates or rationales. In an instant I realized that all my fears were in fact the very things that had disconnected me from knowing my soul, my true self. When I finally let go, when I let the darkness — the infinite unknown — in, my greatest connection illuminated immediately. My fears evaporated. I feel this same flame connection today, and it is one of the reasons I know that when we face the unknown, we will be liberated by it.

       My fears had disconnected me from knowing my soul, my true self.

      I have learned through hard-won experience that if we can dwell in the unknown, sit with uncertainty, if we can face our pain, then healing and transformation can happen. Light and dark, like yin and yang, do not compete with each other. Rather, they complete each other. In fact, they amplify each other as beloved collaborators that exist along a spectrum. The spark of initiation is received by fertile grounds, and blossoming into form, sparks further inspiration in turn.

      Fear — the very fear that was blocking me from knowing my true self — is both a symptom and a cause of disconnection. Further, living in fear attracts greater fear. Living in fear constricts our lives as it paces around us, imprisoning us in ever-tighter circles.

      Darkness does the opposite: it provides the rich intuitive ground for life to take root in and flourish. Darkness facilitates life affirmation of unfathomable depth. Imagination blooms.

      Yet facing darkness is not without its challenges. This is why I created the Bright Way: as a path to guide you through the cycles of light and dark that is this creative life. Cycling between intuition and rationality, action and receptivity, the known and unknown, light and dark, individuality and community, you will become a creative alchemist transmuting lead into gold. You will turn the leaden weight of disconnection into the shining gold of your internal flame.

      Let’s not fear the darkness. Instead, let’s face it together. You are not alone on this path.

       The Bright Way is a path to choosing love over fear.

      Connection is what we crave as humans. True connection — connection based in Sacred Reciprocity — is, in a word, love. And that is what this Bright Way has gifted me: a path to choosing love over fear, connection over disconnection, collaboration over competition. We light our flames together, shining bright against a velvet background of deep mystery and all potential.

       Shining Light on the Shadows

      On all epic journeys, there is a moment of hesitation. Let’s face that uncertainty, knowing now that it is an ally we have much to learn from. This darkness is an invitation to go deeper. This darkness is an initiation.

      Perhaps something like this is surfacing for you: “Since creativity reflects our true selves back to us, what will I see?” This notion can set nerve-racking expectations that your creations instantly be amazing, given that they reflect your very core. Or maybe we worry that there is no real creativity inside us and we will produce nothing pleasing, even to ourselves. Or we might fear that reflections of our anger, worries, and other “negative” emotions look unflattering, resulting in deprivation of love and connection.