The Power Went Out. Something Else Came On.
You don’t always have to escape the darkness. Sometimes you just need to listen to it.
Last Thursday, we had a huge storm.
Thunder. Lightning. Rain coming down in buckets. The streets looked like rivers. It felt very chaotic.
Then…
POP. No power.
The Automatic Response
My first instinct was, sh&t, I better go grab the candles and flashlights, see how much charge I have on my phone, make sure the refrigerator door is shut, and check to see if the sump pump pit is full or empty.
But why did losing power trigger such a frantic response?
I fully understand that not having power for an extended period of time can lead to real consequences. But was any of it an actual emergency in that moment? Did any of it need to get done immediately?
No.
So I took about five or ten minutes and just sat in the dark.
Ten Minutes in the Dark
It was really quite beautiful. And quiet.
No buzzing of the refrigerator. No humming of the air conditioner. No light coming in from the street. Pitch black like I have never seen in suburban New Jersey.
I just sat in the darkness. And enjoyed every minute of it.
Then it hit me.
The Mirror
It was an exact mirror of how I used to deal with the darkness in my life.
Let’s do things to get out of that darkness as quickly as possible and get back to the light.
Whenever we experience a major life transition, whether it’s a loss, a job change, an illness, retirement, divorce, mid-life questioning, or becoming a caregiver, we start questioning the meaning of life. And our reasons for even being here in the first place.
Rather than fighting the darkness, sit in it for a little while. Try to find the beauty within it. Because in order for us to have light, we need darkness. One does not exist without the other.
Find the beauty in the pain. Find the meaning in the suffering.
Let go of fighting the darkness and start dancing with it.
Know When Enough Is Enough
But here’s the slippery slope.
Don’t stay in it for too long. Know when enough is enough, because the darkness can entice you to stay there.
Just like my house. If I’d neglected the consequences of not having power, eventually I’d have had a refrigerator full of rotten food, a flooded basement, a leaky roof, and a host of other problems from the storm.
So after I enjoyed those ten minutes of darkness, I got myself together, turned on some flashlights, and checked everything to make sure it was copacetic.
Two hours later…
POP.
The power was restored.
Turning the Light Back On
And maybe that’s the point.
The darkness isn’t always something we need to escape immediately. Sometimes we need to sit in it. Sometimes we need to see what it has to show us.
And then, when it’s time, turn the light back on.
What darkness are you fighting right now that maybe you’re meant to sit with for a little while?
I’d genuinely love to hear your answer. CLICK HERE to email me. Sometimes the conversations we’re most afraid to have are the ones we need the most.
A Simple Practice:
The Darkness Practice
Grab a piece of paper. Give yourself a few quiet minutes. No fixing. No judging. Just be with what’s there.
Step 1: Name the Darkness
Write down the areas of your life that feel dark right now — the things that hurt, scare you, confuse you, or simply feel unresolved. Don’t try to make sense of them. Just name them.
Step 2: Sit With It
Look at what you wrote and allow yourself to accept that these things are part of your life right now. They don’t define you, but they are part of you. Instead of fighting them or rushing back into the light, simply say, “This is here. And for this moment, I can let it be here.”
Step 3: Release It
When you’re ready, tear the paper into pieces, or, if you can do so safely, burn it in a fire-safe container. As you do, imagine releasing the need to fight, control, or understand everything you wrote. Send it back to the universe. Then sit quietly for one more moment.
You don’t have to be afraid of the darkness. You just have to know when it’s time to turn the light back on.
Healing doesn’t always happen sitting still. Sometimes it begins with taking the next step. Join us for Walking with Grief™ this October in the Adirondacks.