From the Shadows

Last weekend we cleaned out the garage, a project of such grandiose awfulness, I am still feeling exhausted six days later. Boxes were opened that had been gathering dust since we moved into this house nine years ago. Cobwebs were vacuumed that had long ago left behind their pliant youth and solidified into unbending towers. Formerly useful objects, tucked away in safe places and forgotten, presented themselves and were dealt with, patiently and conscientiously in the morning and then with a growing sense of desperation as the day progressed.

Physically it was gruelling. The bending and sorting, the lifting and hauling, trips to the dump...my muscles still protest their unaccustomed usage and I had only the easiest of jobs, with Robby covering all the heavy lifting.

But worse was the humiliation. Wait a minute! Aren't we reasonably organized people? What is all this crap? How could we let this outpost of our home become such an Underworld? Most painful for me were the precious things found either ruined or past their date of usefulness, especially a pair of beautiful sheepskin boots, a present to Eden from his grandparents, that I searched for all winter to no avail. Now that spring has arrived...here they are! His feet will be too big for them next year.

We were looking straight into the Dark Side of our life and not liking it one little bit.

I've been living in the echoes of this experience all week. Alongside my distress (guilt...self-judgement...misery...) I am also feeling the rightness of this kind of project at this time of year. Like so many seasonal folk traditions, the Spring Clean is both emminently practical and deeply spiritual. The work is dirty, there is upheaval, things are uncovered that we prefer to keep hidden, but these little deaths make way for beginnings. As the trees burst into white blossom and the garden is washed with green, I bravely look into my darkness and hopefully bring something...anything...to light.

In my inbox this evening, I found a pearl from among the many that Lynn Jericho liberally and regularly shares with her mailing list. (If you are not on her mailing list, I highly recommend joining in).

For Holy Saturday, she shares the vision of each of us descending into our own tomb, our shadow side of neglected gifts, hurts, needs, and feelings, and bringing compassion to our darkness.

Can your luminous I consciously descend into the pit of self-hatred, bringing self-compassion and self-forgiveness to the suffering parts of your soul? Can this spirit-filled self reach the bottom of the pit and shine warmth and light into all the darkest crevices?

This is not a dramatic deed. It is a tender deed arising from within your Holy of Holies.

All the Hosts of Heaven watch you with awe as you do this.

That is my favorite line. All the Hosts of Heaven watch you with awe as you do this. Can I feel a loving presence, a compassionate witness, even as I gaze at my most unholy corners? How healing to try to do so, in some small way.

Returning to the garage, I am happy to say that we uncovered treasures as well as disasters.