Dancing In the Dark

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“Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” – Sarah Williams

My kids are going through this “scared of the dark” phase. It seems to be seasonally inspired as the nights and mornings get darker. When we have 16 hours of daylight in the summer, they don’t see the dark very often but right now we’re at just over 10 hours of daylight. By the time we get to the solstice, it’ll be something like only eight hours of light each day.

I asked them what the dark feels like to them. Mr. D said surprise. Miss O added that someone could be a foot away in the dark waiting to snatch them and they wouldn’t know.

It makes me think of one of my darkest moments. When I miscarried a baby 4 years ago, overnight the world completely lost all its color and I couldn’t give a care about anything. In the moments that I felt anything, it was anger like I’d never felt before – rage, really – and nobody could do anything right. Except Miss O – I could muster some energy to pull it together for her. This started 4 days before Christmas, and I stumbled through the motions of the holidays just trying to be polite. I could get the smallest glimmer of peace in the morning when I meditated and every once in a while something amused me but overall the landscape looked completely black/white/gray with an occasional spot of color that pulled me through.

In a few weeks I evened out and I could work through the loss. I had stopped taking all the hormones that come with invitro fertilization when I miscarried so I guessed that there was a strong physical component to my experience of darkness.

Going through this gave me the great big a-ha that my assumption that my life experience and outlook were solid was totally wrong.  And I also began to understand that others might come at life from a completely different felt experience.

Mr. D told me his strategy about his dark – get a flashlight. And I love that because it’s a brave looking into the dark. To illuminate the things that scare us so we can lean in to look more closely. And I keep reminding them that there are many things we see in the dark that we can’t see otherwise – like our adventure to see the stars, Halloween decorations not to mention our own frailty. It’s easier to be vulnerable in the dark.

Sometimes the dark makes things visible– and they are different things to see and learn from than in the light.

My kids love Rihanna’s song, “Dancing in the Dark” from the movie, Home. So I’m suggesting that we can dance in the dark until it doesn’t seem so scary and then stay with it long enough to maybe even understand ourselves and others better.

34 thoughts on “Dancing In the Dark”

  2. Thank you, Wynne, for sharing and for being a literal ‘light in the dark’. Your sentence, “In a few weeks I evened out and I could work through the loss” describes the journey through anguish well. I’ve wondered if miscarriages will surface one day in my personal blogging. There’s a reason our DD – darling daughter – is an only and every time a soul sister like you shares, I’m humbled by how many of us have, mostly, suffered in silence. I know there’s an overall message to your sweet post, too — just as Jane said – but my heartstrings are pulled hearing of your loss. ❤xo

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    1. Oh, Vicki. I’m sorry that you’ve gone through this too. Yes, there are so many of us that have suffered in silence and it’s hard to write about – even in knowing how it’ll be received. Thank you for making me feel seen and safe. Soul sisters indeed! Sending light and love – through all the darkness, dear Vicki! 🙂 ❤ ❤

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  3. I love so many things about this. The message, of course, is a powerful one. And like Vicki, I could feel the hurt (and hormones 😝) in your miscarriage. Love your transparency.

    Also, the fact that you asked your kids how the dark makes them feel – allowing them to voice those feelings and thus, make them less scary.

    It’s funny too, because my son just spoke about light and dark the other night. I marvel sometimes at the timing of these things. Like everyone is on the same page.

    Lastly, this is such great advice, “I’m suggesting that we can dance in the dark until it doesn’t seem so scary and then stay with it long enough to maybe even understand ourselves and others better.”

    Thank you, Wynne! 🤍

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    1. Thank you dear Kendra for your beautiful understanding and response. It is funny that we can all be on the same page – or maybe the seasons and Halloween invoke a particular image?

      I so appreciate your kindness and friendship — it’s part of what makes me feel okay revealing my own darkness and experience. Happy Halloween!

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  4. We carry fears throughout life I believe and even as adults don’t know how to name them or handle them. And many are simply dark themselves, never mind the literal setting when we encounter or confront them. Again Wynne, you are providing your kids tools, not necessarily to overcome the hard stuff but to understand why it’s there to begin with. Your little ones are so lucky.

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    1. This comment has me in tears, Deb. Thank you. You’re right – we don’t know how to name them or handle them even as adults. We just have to go through them together and I really appreciate your kind wisdom and insight as part of my journey. ❤ ❤ ❤

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  5. Such an important topic. It touches on many truths to life, beginning with Ecclesiastes: 1:18: “For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.”

    And yet, as you say, if one can endure, process, grieve, and learn from hard experiences, one may yet dance in the dark.

    Your son, by the way, is a budding genius to figure out a way to comfort himself at such an early age. Three cheers for you and the two well-guided troopers in your life, Wynne!

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    1. That is a perfect verse for this, Dr. Stein. And the way that you put ” if one can endure, process, grieve, and learn from hard experiences, one may yet dance in the dark.” – reminds me of how much of a process it is to learn to dance in the dark.

      What a lovely comment about Mr. D. I’m learning right alongside these beautiful young beings! Thank you for being such a kind listener about my experience of darkness.

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  6. Beautiful Wynne!

    I now realize in life’s dark times He was holding me close to teach me to dance as I stumbled, and bring me back into the light. If I’d had Mr D’s childlike trust to grab Faith’s flashlight my ‘dancing in the dark’ lesson would have been shorter.

    Woulda’ … Coulda’ … Shoulda’ . . . my life’s refrain, but He continues to love me just as I am, not as want to be and someday will be, to forever dance in the Light . . . PTL!

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  7. It’s wonderful how your child’s ability to name a problem then find a solution is the catalyst for a post about emotional darkness, how to counteract it. At some point in our adult lives we all need flashlights of some sort, don’t we?

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    1. Thank you, Ally. I love your use of flashlights as a metaphor, Ally. Yes, that’s so true that we all need flashlights of some sort. And maybe on Halloween most of all. 🙂 Hope you have a good one!

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  8. You know Wynne, I am still scared of the darkness at my age, don’t really know where it comes from. I shall dance as well, also because I love dancing. So sorry for your miscarriage, you are plenty of resources and a great mother!

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    1. That is so interesting, Cristiana – so odd where these things come from. I’m picturing us all dancing in the dark one day. Wouldn’t that be fun? And thank you for the lovely compliment.

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  9. What a beautiful moment with Mr D, Wynne. I’m sorry about your miscarriage and how painful that must’ve been.

    We learn so much from our kids and how simple but deep their views are of this world. You’re the flashlight and in their lives and they’re your mirror reflections, shining that wonderful light back at you when you need it most.

    I love Rihanna’s songs. “Dance in the Dark” by Lady Gaga is another wonderful song with a similar message.

    Happy Halloween.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, Ab. I so appreciate your kindness. You are a delightful blogging friend and I am grateful for you.

      What a lovely way to express parents as our kids’ flashlight! Such an interesting way to extend the metaphor.

      I’ve got to check out that Lady Gaga song. Thank you!

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  10. I once read that there’s great wisdom to be found in the words of (some of) the young-ones. Your Mr. D’s definition of the problem and solution reminded me of that. One of the examples that author used was how a particular child defined a bridge “it connects people and places.” And when you think about it, that’s really what it’s about. And when you think about what Mr. D has said, that’s really what we should do when we face the darkness. You’re raising a wise boy!

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  11. I don’t know if you planned on writing on Halloween about darkness and how it affects us, so brilliant!

    Personally, I keep nightlights in every room, as do my grandchildren. I just don’t want to stumble around in the dark when I get up (frequently) during the night, but they still have their trepidations about dark even though they’re teens.

    My grandson and I have many deep talks about spiritual matters, both on the light and the dark side, for he’s a person who needs to know how things tick. I was like that too, so I’m happy to have these talks.

    Your weaving in how Mr. D handles the dark and how you handled “a dark night of the soul” are magical.

    Love your writing!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. What a lovely comment, Tamara! Thank you for the compliment. And I think nightlights are great – they have so many great and subtle versions these days.

      Your conversations with your grandson sound magical too. I love the relationship you have with your grandchildren!!

      Thanks so much, my friend!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. LOL! *mutual admiration!* Love it! Magic doesn’t always happen in relationships, so when it does, cherish it, I say!

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  12. I love this line, “Sometimes the dark makes things visible– and they are different things to see and learn from than in the light.” So true. It makes me consider the darkness of the womb, the roots in the ground, and the way darkness calls us to sleep. Great post. Hugs, C

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  13. I don’t know this “Dancing in the Dark” by Rihanna, but as a huge Springsteen fan, I have to ask: is it a cover version of his song?

    I don’t think I was ever really scared of the dark when I was younger, but my kids were. Seems to be a standard rite of passage almost.

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    1. I just had to play the two to make sure – but no, it isn’t a cover of the Springsteen song. Ab also suggested that Lady Gaga had a similarly titled song Dance in the Dark and I just tried to play it and Alexa told me she couldn’t when the explicit filter was on… 🙂

      You’re right – I think fear of the dark must be a standard rite of passage for kids.

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  14. This post has me thinking of an absolutely gorgeous book, Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor. As one who’s always loved the possibility in the quiet darkness of early morning, that book touched all parts of my inner world … aaaand, as I reflect on this, I feel it may well be time for me to re-read it!

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