Jan Boelhouwers

December Darkness and Light

a spiritual excursion

Jan Boelhouwers

© text and photography Jan Boelhouwers, 2016

Contents

night life .............................................................................................. 6 ending twilight .................................................................................... 1 starry sky ............................................................................................. 1 finding heart ........................................................................................ 1 evening garden lights .......................................................................... 1 forgetfulness ........................................................................................ 1 finding heart 2 ..................................................................................... 1 first moon ............................................................................................ 1 in daylight ........................................................................................... 5 full moon ............................................................................................. 7 baking bread ...................................................................................... 11

night life I what does it mean to see in the dark? my reference light doesn’t hold anymore can’t make words of what comes. dumbfounded this is the body’s language. listening and seeing makes no sense in this world of pre-sence wind and trees whisper one language, this larger than self speaks a truth that makes me belong to the ground. this darkness, my core makes me part of this universe this here and now the voice of the windtrees is my own expanded urges me on as a sail in the wind. the deeper I sink in the groundedness the firmer I stand, I become an instrument thy will be done

out of this surrender I can live find myself united with the trees that pause, gathering, gathering strength in this dark season. a gathering of allies or simply at one with life II gritty muck, my feet can root in that I find more consolation there than in what can be named in the light walking as proof that something in here exists every step an expression of onward living just that welling up through the muck into my legs through the windtrees into my sail my heart just receiving in wonderment an open mouth in awe ‘oh, is this what life can be?!’ III feeble words and so brittle a gust of wind can blow me away tossed around this temporary home

for this small consciousness uttering a wow humility – humus – soil being brought back to the ground words also open up into meaning I wade through darkness bravely facing what’s ahead towards what’s not yet known, and in my wake voices whisper about my visit what came? what passed here? hushed voices: who is this stranger that comes here and claims to know anything yet carries some inner light the voices don’t dare to be named: of course, they can’t! they wouldn’t be in the dark anymore if they were! and yet, movement, movement, all the time a deep stir here amongst the towering pines and that gritty road my soul feels in good company the deeper ground is more reliable than anything else in human existence. again, surrender

surrender to the windtrees stirring my soul blowing into my sail toward an unknown I can be at peace with that IV in innocence I am surrounded in the simple being of the clouds, the trees, the grit the stones, the water the rain drops no struggle to be yourself innocent of the notion that life could be anything else, a purity of intent a simplicity of onward expression, let disconnection not destroy that. It is this return that is easier to find in the dark V let me not make what’s expressed primary it makes life very complicated I’m too old for that which world do I let myself be changed by? don’t worry about that! inevitably it will find you it will change you no questions about what it is then all happens in its own time

that can be trusted don’t listen and life will knock at the door again bring me on my knees until I bloody well learn to listen and stop living a half-life ahead of me car after car passing on this Friday afternoon chasing toward two days before going back again. people between front and rear lights somewhere in that metal cage ‘they say I and I and they could mean anyone’ I hope that’s not true. and I know it’s not true and I know in so many ways so much of the time that is exactly how we live our lives car lights garden lights and Christmas decorations I return to light and another kind of comfort

end of twilight I I walk the dirt road the world appears known its inhabitants recognized yet within themselves they carry the same mystery In light the world appears a decoration a painted darkness given shape and form the senses can perceive and know the world, from a certain point of view. yet, this wind lets me know it’s not all objectified my navigation is easier my senses are equipped for that still, as I walk here I wonder how can I know this environment out of which I form? seeing the gravel road ahead the sound of my feet a surface contact this texture, colour, gravelly muddiness.

beneath, my feet meet the same darkness the same mystery the same voices something archaic darkness meets darkness darkness knows itself whether the earth beneath my feet the trees, or the elephant whisperer something unravels a different kind of telling unfolds in innocence and trust that I am part of this universe a trust larger than the words that live in their own world I know where to find the earth to carry my unstable words yet here I stand talking to a spruce and a horse rider comes by is this guy as crazy as he looks? not often do people talk to trees and are considered making sense

II I carry on walking I feel more at home in my body than in my head, and it’s getting darker my feet crunch on the gravel road the windtrees sigh loudly overhead now that is poetry I move through a corridor of twilight darkness settles on either side and something in me merges with the dark forest disappears out of the world my feet let me know I’m still part of this earth my torso held upright by the trees my head above the canopy listens for some meaning in being in this world my feet reply you are walking your meaning right now there’s nothing to do but to be there for it this wind is as transient as my thoughts this forest road like my life

walking my path here unconcerned with the sky and the noises of the wind resting in the stability of the trees storytelling moves life forward

starry sky I I stand in still air beneath a starry sky no forest walk this evening the darkness of the forest is so awake deep, intense and full of voices darkness is not empty there on frozen grass in an open field I have the Milky Way above me the Great Bear Cassiopeia Orion behind me an undemanding space darkness is not empty in the forest and neither is the starry sky overhead within the earthly black are the lights of homes of people, a city light glow, a mobile phone tower, airline traffic another night of December darkness and it could not be more different I stand up to my neck in a deep intense black so full of itself that above me something cool and bright

has presence bright, light, sparkling air and the December chill this night sky empties my head in a different way invites me beyond my thoughts. thoughts reside in that murky, earthy darkness but the space between my words is more like the night sky above me clear light sparkling it carries a quality of joy spirited lightness that uplifts looks with its own kind of wonderment at the aches and worrying the struggles of this physical being of which it has no part here spirit can soar some other part of me can meet itself in the night sky above the inner light at which the voices in the forest wondered, beyond their recognition for shyness of being seen that inner light knows itself at one with the stars above. my thinking is surprised at this familiarity

something in me trembles at this realization bodily earth and spirit sky and how perfectly it captures the duality of my being my body grabbed by earthly gravity pulling it home all the time my spirit called and at one pulled up by this celestial gravity. only now do these words make sense only now does my spirit meet for the first time some kind of life energy that is larger than itself no longer this struggling separated spirit but a new dimension of connection a meeting of spirit and ancestry II a part of me is rendered defeated defeated in my head why does this need to happen? why does this standing here destroy me? the way I have known myself created myself as I stand somehow open between heaven and earth something else in me becomes redundant I tremble at the loss of that

between my feet and the top of my head my heart beats exposed small in awe and in despair at its own brittleness the smallness of being human the vulnerability of this small body in this universe as much as the ground supported me this vast sky above leaves me very exposed so here I need to call on the spirit beings for help for guidance this kind of living I cannot do alone I ask for strength I ask for a token, a sign within myself I need to have this connection here I stand in prayer the only way I can walk from here is by the strength of something else but don’t let it be this redundant self

finding heart the body sits stable shaky and trembling inside like there is no I. last night out on the field, between ground and sky my historical self comes and is mortally afraid. A place that is scared it will die, that it will disappear. It would be easy to just put aside this painful place. The confusion is raw and direct. There is a seeing that has more of a quality of truth than warm-heartedness. Seeing how things are can make one too cold. Right here in the chest something essential is not available. The absence of warmth brings a sense of isolation. It separates me from other beings. Identity builds in relation to other humans. It is how we build a sense of who we are. This lives as a very raw sensation. With my feet on the ground and my head in the sky. The body is so spacious, there is an open invitation to the heart in here: where would you like to go right now? … My heart starts to re-inhabit my body. It takes more space, not so small anymore. … The heart is warm. It doesn’t need anything else but to be invited.

A warmth spreads from my chest, a gentleness, a softness, a voice that says: “what a cosy time you can have – it’s almost Christmas”. The whole inner climate has shifted from an Antarctic chill to a tropical beach. It is incredible how this invitation has shifted my whole inner climate. I recognize how often my body feels cold. I can now sense what kind of state I’m in when I feel like that. And how available warm-heartedness really is.

evening garden lights sitting outside surrounded by garden lights, traffic lights, lights of the homes at Åltomtabro signalling across the fields. star light overhead Orion in the south traffic sounds from the provincial road, the train off to Sala, a helicopter overhead this evening a mixture of deep forest darkness the not quite as dark night sky and human activity intruding with light and sounds now the heart wants to be with. how am I? this feels like a renewed relationship my heart throbs as I recall that sense of exposure like a heart ache. social being as part of my being in darkness lights and sounds connect it feels good to rest in the darkness and it’s good to have lights and sounds

forgetfulness I walk the dirt road, the sun has set, it’s almost completely dark. I can still see shapes and forms, shades of deepening grey. Sounds of traffic and trains surround me, and the windtrees. The world still stirs while at the same time there is a deepening as colour and light fades away. The body in movement, walking a familiar road in familiar surroundings. I enter the darkness around me and find myself held and come to rest. A storyteller told a version of the Firebird tale in which a horseman rides through a forest and finds a beautiful white feather along the road. He does not get off his horse. He just leans down from his horse, but continues riding while grabbing the feather. And the storyteller warns: admire the feather, but do not go looking for the bird, because it can destroy you. Walking this late afternoon, darkness seems attractive, it offers a sense of refuge. The absence of light and with that a forgetting the world, a leaving the world behind and finding solace in the as yet unknown mysteries of life. Friends have deliberately done what needs to be done in such cases: they warn with words and challenge me back into the light. And they are right to do so. Appreciating darkness for what it is, is meaningful, and standing in the light is where we live in the world. Winter, the dark season, is nature’s inhale. A resourcing, a gathering, a building strength,

finding one’s roots again, a drawing oneself together. This meaning is like a deeply dug well in the ground, the stem of the lotus flower. It is finding source, finding strength out of which to meet the day. It’s a long winter here, days are very short. It suits my nature and it suits my situation. Forgetting the world in darkness. I described earlier a merging with the forest, a wading through darkness, the self and darkness no longer separated, my inner darkness and outer darkness in conversation with each other, knowing each other. My words fall away, fall into forgetfulness too easily; a blissful not-knowing, blissfully unaware. In this darkness, the self easily disappears and becomes an emptiness between heaven and earth. Spacious, grounded and uninhabited if it is just that. But as I bring the boundaries between self and road and forest and sky and gather myself here, and gather myself as the home for my heart, my heart does not have to feel exposed. There is a self here that is autonomous, that knows itself. It has an intellect connected and separate from this season. Here I walk, gathered, with some strength in the muscles, upright. I carry an inner light that gets seen and separates me from the beings around me. There is capacity. This is the rider back on his horse, riding through the forest with his feather. Rather than the rider who gets off his horse, the horse wanders away and the rider just stands in wonderment holding this

feather, while the forest around him darkens and creatures emerge from behind the tree trunks and stare at this intruder. I know the bird that that feather belongs to, having seen, it is enough. I feel more brave holding the feather, walking through this darkness. I hold the feather as a torch that allows me to see the nature of darkness, allows me to see into the darkness and know it, and have it, and bow to it in awe and knowing how my inner darkness is of the same kind. Having visited, having tasted, and sat down with these mysteries, I will walk back and write and image my imaginations. For this I still hold true: in this world of light, in this world of enlightenment it is too easy to get lost without the inner compass that can only be found in the darkness. This I stand for, not as a person lost in darkness, but as a person who has seen and visited. Forgetfulness comes in degrees. Some people feel the need to live their lives in the light all the time. And for sure, life can be pretty scary in the dark. It needs a kind of tempering, a gradual accustoming. So let me do this. All I can say is that it is worthwhile and it is the only way to not feel lost in the world, to find home and belonging within oneself. No matter what I write, no matter how I imagine, whatever I bring into the world, all I can do is to point at the moon. Forgetfulness in the dark comes with merging with darkness, rather than be in relationship

with it. So, don’t become the darkness. And at the same time, living in the light has the same power, if not more, for forgetfulness. And that feels equally, if not more important, in today’s world certainly. Enlightenment brings its own forgetfulness, keeps me in longing for meaning, without directing me home or finding belonging. It renders darkness as a fearful place. So we rather bring forgetfulness by increasing the light, by losing ourselves in the wonder of objects, a merging with the surface of things. This is a forgetting of my own nature and the nature of the world. Both the world of darkness and the world of light can bring forgetfulness. A potential for merging, a potential for losing oneself. How to be in this world, both autonomous, being closely connected with the pure physicality of existence. As I say these words my shoulders drop and find myself connected. And this uprightness, this celestial gravity, the spiritual dimension. On the one hand it’s out there, but what is more available now is my heart, my chest /sternum. The heart region in the sternum, through that I meet the world and find some definition of I that finds itself supported by both gravities. It’s strange how at ease I walk here in what from another perspective would look like walking along a muddy track in the rain in the darkness of December, the wind blowing and greyness all around. One could bring an opinion about this. On the other hand, just having this, it’s just fine. Again, I’m more at ease now than I have been all day.

To be in movement, helps the body to become unstuck, out of stagnation. This is also a quality of forgetfulness. If forgetfulness is a merging, an identification, that itself leads to stuckness. Something gets stopped and this walking here, just this speaking out while walking brings a sense of ongoingness, a sense of aware living. That is very much supported by taking a pause from doing in the light. I recognize how demanding and challenging it is to do in the world for me right now. And that is not quite articulated for me yet – what is it about the world, about standing in the light that is challenging. The first thing that comes is that the demands of doing something else than what wants to be done, being gripped in a stranglehold, things that you do for money, that does not come as a creative impulse. Something being asked from me that I am incapable of meeting, even when there is a mental, intellectual, cognitive recognition of its necessity, finding it stimulating, attractive somehow. Standing, looking north at the edge of a copse of poplars. Where am I now? I’m kind of feeling stressed about whatever I last talked about. Finding my standing, noting a lot of traffic behind me. What comes is how my body feels in a stranglehold by the university department I work at. Even though it is so accommodating with this option for teaching, but only teaching. Maybe it is not enough stimulation, or stimulation of the wrong kind.

Something meaningless. This is the way my body stands in the light. It is square, institutional, confining, imprisoning, inflexible, suffocating. It demands a certain kind of forgetting. It demands a forgetting of source of meaning. Of everything I find here in the darkness, it only deals with things that can be found in the light. It tightens the right side of my body. My scalp tightens. It is a demon that lives in brought daylight. It is the fiercest of dragons that has become the ruler of the day. It has taken over what beauty can be found. The world has been rendered an inflexible structure in which I find myself impossible to fit. I cannot be moulded by the demands of institutions. I would literally give up my soul. I live too much in the dark. I will not let my feather be stolen from me. No matter how many soldiers come, I will rather be sitting in prison than to give up the secret so that what lives in the dark can be named and exposed and be put in the light and itself become slave to the thinking mind. So here I find the danger of science as noble a quest as it is, to find truth and to name truth and to find a light that can shine on the mysteries of the world. What we do is to banish darkness out of our world more and more, and ultimately that is maybe why I had to come here, away from the sunny beaches of South Africa to stand in the murky darkness that lasts for months.

finding heart 2 your legs anchor themselves in the earth beneath its skin of light wide open space above arms reaching up and wide a new opening your inhale takes something and brings it in: a sense of lightness light-hearted vitality joy taste that! this breath encourages the heart connected with others this is a social energy that plays spontaneously part of the nature of the human heart is to connect with other human hearts how could you not have known this?! how can this sound so new?! why has no one ever told you this before?! family history generations of farmers dug the earth very grounded bent down but not standing tall to look up to the sky now something has opened

up the gift of the next inhale take in something special how it nurtures the centre of my heart every inhale is a taking in some fuel breath circulates the love received transformed and radiated outward to connect with the human world this field completes your heart standing no longer small exposed beneath a starry sky your breath receives into your heart and through you shared with the world it, is called love full throughout yourself within and without you stand regenerated and whole

first moon

sun setting, temperature dropping fast on the open field the lights of the Gammelängen homestead traffic along the provincial road a reminder of that world my feet crush the white frost on stiff blades of grass hard ground beneath my feet a last twilight in the south first stars appear overhead low in the sky the narrow wedge of a new moon my feet drag me away from the sound of traffic and away from the light behind me into the darkness ahead a sense of home coming coming to rest the silence of winter deepens this part of the planet turns away from light warmth has escaped from the air but shelters light and vital in my body I view the last twilight of light in the south a pale yellow, a pale blue just above the horizon more stars appear overhead this narrow moonlight a kind of witnessing a reminder, an echo of light in this settling darkness a small echo of sunlight

its presence gazing witnessing darkness with a definite presence as an intermediary between earth and sun darkness and light the air is so still so devoid of vibration anything that is placed into this air travels undisturbed with clarity a steely ring to it undisturbed aby any other fullness that could occupy this air in this stillness the sounds of traffic are disturbingly loud intrusive cutting through silence with a ragged knife unrefined, ignorant of its own imposition the emptiness of air the absence of vibrancy in this steely air has a tendency to creep in on me to suck the vitality out of me necessitates my staying in movement as I need to maintain my autonomy in this air there is also a clarity, a purity of spirit that is so crystal clear my body wants to protect and distance itself from this cold my inhale invites and cannot meet this stillness

in movement I need to stand still for this meeting and its bloody cold while it’s good to stand here the traffic is too noisy the cold is too challenging my head no longer plays along

in daylight I sit in the garden, it is still mild. This morning I wrote about a prof who questioned the use of physical geographers as examiners in a human geography department. I sit here as a physical geographer, employed in that very human geography department. How to respond? One professor answered in a loud email giving an academic response, which goes straight for the ideas. We attack the ideas not the person. We ignore the fact that there is a person who carries the ideas. This disconnection in practice. So how to respond? 1. sleep on it. I’ve taken that luxury; it is now the next day. 2. take a whisky, go to bed. That I did as well. Unfortunately, here is a next day. In darkness one can forget about time at one’s own peril. Standing in the light, time passes. 1st I need to protect myself. Going in for a personal response I stick out my neck, ready for the head to be chopped off. That is not the way the game is played. If I want to relate to this I need to create more distance, less connection. That tones down my agitation. How far distance is enough?

full moon Christmas day essentially over standing in the open field. it’s a clear night with a full moon only the brightest stars are visible even though there is no snow it surprises me how much light the moon gives in bluish greytones Christmas night a peacefulness in the heart feeling blessed by food and company and the need to stand here under an open starry sky in the full moon light lights of homes like stars on the ground stars in the sky like homes of fellow beings the company of the moon with its own eerie presence witnessing detached and cold without daylight mystery remains in this world a half-light a half-darkness maybe a more balanced world. this world in the moonlight is a world in which I whisper so as not to drown out the voices of the beings that live in the shadows, a more respectful being in this world

with consideration for its mysteries my breathing is slow and deep quenching my thirst for spirit my feet on the ground my head in the sky my heart open to the world around me acknowledging the lives of the human beings behind each of the home lights this wind connects me to places further away the horizontal connection with this world places of conflict, suffering also open to that. through an open heart how I can meet express into and take in the world? standing here in this open field a forward impulse comes that represents expression, creativity a forward living telling of tales the interacting with the world comes, gets met being there for it being able to meet. Walking, in my wake a past that is only a moment old but already lost. acknowledging the passing of time of what is behind me

and still gets dragged along. as I take my steps forward something gets carried with sometimes it feels like a burden sometimes it feels like rich experience sometimes it feels like a light daypack right now it feels my life is rich, full in all directions in all dimensions connected to the up and down the horizontal, the forward and behind the light and the dark in balance in the full moon light in the moment of one breath

baking bread “How flour becomes bread when put in the oven was for Buddha the most important thing”

S.Suzuki, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, p.56 standing in daylight awake to darkness the bread bakes December daily life is to live close to the mystery of the world our inner unknowns meet the outside darkness the daily colours of living in bleak and more subdued tones invite you to live more slowly more considerately closer to your inner life the inner and the outer meet like standing in the full moonlight half-light half-dark, in balance embracing the dark more consciously the mind calms less distracted by colours and shapes the movement of things that surround you the dark invites you to meet the life beneath the surface a coming back to source. know the soles of your feet

on this planet return to the simplicity of breath as the carrier of spirit the beating of your heart connects with other beating hearts this simple living this is how you bake your bread with gratitude for the earth’s support and the grace of spirit in humility for your forgetfulness and the warmth of human community whatever arises into daylight hold it with the open hand of not-knowing recognizing this arises out of the mystery of the unknown you don’t know its gifts yet the bread is rising allow it to shape itself for it to take its form freely blossoming into just the form that you are surrender to the moment surrender to just this breath to the stars above into the grounded self the wide open bowl in which the dough is kneaded the warmth of your heart kneads the dough allows the rising like warm hands

holding this small self you are no-self and you are self self can know no-self and only through no-self can self be seen