Whether Astrology is science or magic, we’re open to most things, if they may be of benefit. ~ Ed.
In the nature of full disclosure, I have a confession to make—based on my Facebook newsfeed, I may be one of the only people in the continental U.S. not to watch the solar eclipse yesterday.
Given this fact, you might wonder how I learned anything from the great eclipse of 2017?
But, Mother Nature has a way of teaching us life lessons even if we choose not to cooperate with her or, even worse, to completely disregard her.
In fairness, my decision to forego the eclipse wasn’t an attempt at avoiding a possible life lesson that I may prefer not knowing. Rather, I know myself and I felt certain that whether I had protective eye wear or not, I would want to steal a glance at the sun with my naked eye—to witness divine creation in all of its shining glory without any interference. And because I value the gift of sight, I decided that it would probably be the best for me to sit this one out.
And so, I found myself sitting in the sunroom of the house where I’m pet-sitting, looking out not at the solar eclipse, but rather at the Olympic Mountains and the Puget Sound (not such a bad alternative view after all).
But, slowly, the sunroom in which I sat became darker. As the moment of totality on this coast grew closer and closer, a darker and darker shadow was cast over the back porch. Although, blue skies still lit the horizon, the darkness of the eclipse was palpable.
As I sat there alone in a room of someone else’s house, I found myself suddenly overcome with a tangible feeling of anxiousness. My head became light, an uneasy feeling churned in my stomach, and dizziness overcame me.
Perhaps, these physical symptoms of anxiety were simply the result of the gravitational force of the moon and the sun aligning almost as if they were one.
While I’d like to write it off as the effect of gravity, the truth that lives inside me knows better.
My body simply seemed to be physically resisting the darkness.
This resistance took me by surprise.
I’ve always been a firm believer in nature’s pattern of death and resurrection. So, why was this eclipse any different? Why was I so afraid to walk into the darkness this time? Surely, I knew that the light would soon shine again?
As I pondered these questions, I realized that even though I was missing Mother Nature’s big show, she was once again offering me a compassionate lesson on living.
There, in the shadows of the eclipse, I had to face my own shadow—my own resistance to the darkness and the unknown and the uncertainty.
And then, just as quickly as those shadows had cast their shade into my life, the eclipse rescinded.
Light slowly flooded the room again and my uneasiness began to lift—almost as though it had never even been there in the first place.
Pondering this surreal experience over the next few hours, I realized that perhaps this was a lesson my soul deeply needed today.
In the turmoil of the current events, Mother Nature was gently reminding me that despite our fear and our uneasiness, we have to walk into the dark.
Walking into the dark is the only way for us to come out on the other side; the only way, for us to experience resurrection and new life.
The dark is scary; it’s uncertain and unknown.
But, even so, the mystery of darkness somehow creates the space for us to eventually make our wounds visible. It gives us permission to grieve and to be angry. And then, finally, when the light begins to shine through, we surprisingly find that the darkness has led us not only to a new day, but maybe even to forgiveness.
What then is there to resist?
Author: Elise Scott
Image: freestocks.org / Unsplash
Editor: Sara Kärpänen
Copy Editor: Danielle Beutell