May 2, 2023 Tuesday Evening, Living Awake Class
Guided Meditation Fleeing Through the Dark Woods: What Sustains Us Through the Darkness? How Do We Find Light in the Darkness Without Creating a Duality?
Barbara: We’re going to do something a bit different tonight. Instead of a first hour and a second hour with me and Aaron and then with John, Aaron is going to lead a guided meditation for maybe 30 minutes and then we’re going to invite people to share and talk some about it with John, Aaron, and me. And then, at the end, John may lead a loving kindness or other guided meditation or chanting. So, we’ll fill the two hours that way. That said, I’m just going to get out of Aaron’s way and let him come in.
Aaron: My blessings and love to you. I am Aaron. We’ve been talking all year about path of sacred light, path of sacred darkness, and the non-duality of light and darkness.
Anyplace where there’s darkness, you can find light. Anyplace that’s filled with light, you can also find darkness. Like the yin/yang symbol, they must coexist. People prefer their path to be that of light. It sounds easier. Perhaps it’s more pleasant; easier, I can’t say. There is no such thing as a path that’s solely light because they’re constantly turning upon each other.
The guided meditation I want to lead today I hope will give you a sense of finding the light in the darkness. A sense of your own power, and trust in yourself and your ability to navigate what in the meditation will be literal darkness. We’re going to wind our way through a dark forest.
When I say ‘light’, we think of the bright sunlight, for example. But light is also a form of energy. It is expansiveness, joy, generosity, loving kindness; these are all imbued with light. And darkness by its nature is contracted until it closes out the light. But even in the darkest place there will be some light.
No matter how closed you are you still must breathe to live. And when you inhale, your body expands a bit. So even the most negatively positively polarized beings still must expand a bit to allow for light/life.
What I find myself doing most often through hundreds of years is starting with people where they are, whatever balance of light and dark, whatever their polarity, and helping them to find the light in themselves. For a negatively polarized being, there’s great resistance. They don’t want to find the light in themselves. They want to be closed in and dark and hard.
So, I seem to be tapping people on the shoulder, and their face is down and they’re emerged in the darkness, and I just say, “Look up! Look up!”
“Oh! Something different out there. Light, space—oh, it’s too big.” (contracting again)
A little while later, “Look up! Look up!” Opening to the light.
Please make yourselves comfortable. Let’s begin the guided meditation.
We have been chased out of our homes by those who mean to destroy us, to beat us, to kill us, to rape the women, to steal our possessions; people filled with greed and hatred.
Our home is on the edge of a very large, deep forest. We have the home team advantage, if I may call it that. We know this forest and the enemy does not—at least we know the outer portions of it. We know that far away, on the other side of the forest, thirty or more miles through the forest, is another country and we will be welcomed there.
But to get there we have to go through the heart of the forest. There are giant trees that block out the sky. There are no major hazards here, no grizzly bears, no poisonous snakes, no steep cliffs from which one could fall, no raging rivers. Just to give you the lay of the land, there are pockets of mud, even shallow pools. There are places of windfall, with many trees piled on top of each other, very challenging obstacles. Perhaps the half a mile closest to our farmland is well-known to us, and then the forest gets deeper and deeper.
No time to reflect. People are shooting. The only way to save our lives is to enter the forest.
At first the path is wide, well-known to us. Within a hundred yards or so it branches into a half dozen different directions. We are told we must constantly go west, so we follow the setting sun as best we can, what is visible of that sun through the thick trees. Not so much walking as running. Some going on one path, some on another; we have made no attempt to stay together.
And so, we each find ourselves alone as the sun goes down. Still the lightest hint of pink through the trees to show which way is west. No more paths. Making our way through giant trees, over stumps and trunks, over rocks, around little mud holes and tiny ponds.
We’ve been told if we persevere and keep walking—and we do have some food, each has some food and water—if we persevere, we should be able to get through to the other side in two days.
The deeper we go into the forest, the safer we are from those who would catch and destroy us.
For now, still dusk, the forest feels friendly. But now the sky is growing dark. The branches overhead are thick. Each has a small torch of sorts, just a tiny handheld torch that can light the way a bit. But no extra batteries, so you don’t want to keep it on all the time. Your eyes will adjust to the dark.
Walking, the sounds are amplified. You are alone. There is not so much fear of this enemy as determination to survive, and also a strong intention to find help from the people on the far side of the forest to come back with us and push these people out of our homeland, for they are known friends.
Walking, walking. Getting dark. Sounds, all the sounds of a forest at night. The trees swaying a bit and creaking. Animals moving, animals calling that you cannot see. Keep walking slowly.
You want to get far enough in to know you’re safe from those marauders. Walking, walking…
It is so dark. You come to a very small clearing, just a place where three or four trees have toppled leaving the overhead canopy open, a small patch of space. As you go into that area, you look up and can see the stars. It is not safe to stay here. Just sit for a minute, catch your breath, and enjoy the stars. Remember light exists, space exists.
Knowing that you’re not nearly far enough in to be safe, now pick yourself up. And you can see a bit of an opening between the trees on the other side of this small space. Walk into the opening.
There is no moon, no light. Pausing, you hear something. Is it the enemy? Am I about to be shot? You listen. No torches, no noise. Finally, you breathe, calling out, “This is me. Who is there?” And ah! A friend answers, one of your neighbors. And so, you find each other and come together to walk together. It’s a little easier with two, just feeling that support.
Now the night is at its blackest. Still not far enough to be safe, especially if they came to track you with dogs or some such. You must go further, go further, further into the darkness.
And so, you walk for hours in the dark, very slowly, around trees. Very unsure of your direction, now that the setting sun is no longer visible. No compass. Walking, walking…
And finally, in exhaustion, you know you must stop. You come to a place where there’s some grass and a small rock outcropping, a place that you can lean against, a little bit of shelter at your back. You sit. The trees are still huge overhead, blocking out the stars.
When I say rock outcropping, I don’t mean a cliff; just something five or six feet high, some big rocks. Despair threatens. But hope is there, too, and knowing your capacity for love, for life. You sit in this grass. Resting against them, the two of you there in the dark, staying silent.
Ask yourself, “Where is the light? Where is my strength? What is my ground of support? What sustains me?” If we are to proceed in the darkness, we must know what sustains us. What our intentions are. Where we may find refuge.
You don’t dare to sit in this spot all night; you know you must keep going. But you rest here, eat and drink a bit, and meditate, asking yourself, “What leads me through the darkness? What sustains me? What are my highest intentions? What is my refuge? Where is the light?”
I’m going to leave you with that for ten minutes. Let’s just sit quietly.
(sitting)
What sustains you? Where is your refuge? Are your intentions themselves part of that refuge?
The time is passing. You have had your rest and now it’s time to walk on in this darkest part of the night even deeper into the forest.
The forest is alive with sounds of small animals calling and scampering. You cannot see the path under your feet. You have a walking stick to prod ahead, knowing when you come to a small stream or muddy spot or large roots. Stepping over them.
The little bit of sky you had been able to see is now gone. Walking, walking…
What light exists in this forest? My experience is that even in the darkest places, the earth itself gives off some radiance. There is always light. There is no denial of the darkness, but we find the light there with the darkness.
Walking, walking…
Your companion, not as strong as you, keeps stumbling. You are holding their arm, helping them.
Voices travel through the woods at night, so you don’t talk. Who knows how close those coming after you could be. Walking, walking…
Again, what sustains you? It’s almost as if your earth experience is a metaphor, coming to this sometimes darker realm of earth. Lots of joy and light here, too, but sometimes dark. What sustains us through our incarnation? What gives us courage to keep moving to seek freedom?
Almost imperceptibly, the sky in one direction grows a little light. It’s directly behind you. You’ve gotten a little off track; you will have to adjust your course. But even through the very thick trees and heavy overhead canopy you can see a bit of light. You turn and walk again with it at your back, always moving on toward freedom.
The birds have awakened and are calling. The animals are awakening.
You’re exhausted, and, having come this far, you feel like you are probably safe from being followed. Ahead you see a bit more light and you’re drawn toward it, an open area with sun coming in. You hear voices as you approach, and find others of your family, friends, neighbors, gathered in there. A good place to rest for a time.
But freedom has not yet been won, so after a few hours of rest you will pick up again, all of you in this group here now together. The sun at your back, walking forward. Walking toward freedom. Not caught in stories of fear but filled with light in your heart.
The day passes, and the walking is a bit easier in daylight. Still very dark in the woods, but you have some visibility. Again, following the setting sun.
As the sun begins its final descent, you break out of the forest into that other country, really almost into a village backed right up to the forest. People stop and look at you. “Who are you?” “We have escaped the murderous enemy.”
We are free. We have made it through the forest. Immediately, people come to offer you food and water, whatever you may need. People are very loving. You feel very welcomed.
You made it through. What carried you through this path to freedom?
Has the character of darkness changed for you at all? Is it no longer so black and white, if I may put it that way?
Form is emptiness; emptiness is form. Light is darkness; darkness is light.
There are unending metaphors possible here, but as our own personal darkness, our own deepest areas of fear and pain, what sustains us as we move through, traverse that territory of pain, fear, and confusion and emerge into freedom? How do we find light right there within the darkness without creating a duality?
You may open your eyes.
This is really what this whole year has been about—finding our way through this human experience without creating a duality of good or bad, even pleasant or unpleasant.
Freedom comes with that lack of distinction, seeing everything is in everything else. And this grows out of your practice.
Here I’m going to put in my own personal plug for retreat. No matter how regularly you do a sitting each morning, there’s nothing quite like the depth you can have by repeated days of several hours of sitting, instruction, and dharma sharing. So, even for those of you who must tend children or work, still committing yourself to silence for a week – practicing throughout the day mindfulness of eating, of walking, of bathing, of cleaning. This will deepen things for you so that you can see so clearly your own true nature as light and the power of that light, the power of your intentions to win your way through to freedom for yourself and all beings. I hope you will consider the retreat, if you have not been considering it.
Thank you. I’m going to pause here. I’d like you to sit quietly for a few minutes, and then invite sharing of your experience both in this meditation and your whole experience. Each of you has passed through a dark woods sometime this year, some darker than others. Is this truly only an obstacle, this dark woods, or is it a teacher, too? What sustains you as you move through the dark woods of your life? What brings you to joy, to compassion, to deeper wisdom? This is our beautiful path, our dharma path.
Let’s be quiet for just a few minutes.