Now that the longest night of the year has passed, I have been reflecting on how much we fear the ‘dark’ seasons of our lives.
We often look at moments of grief, exhaustion, or necessary endings as problems to be solved, treating these internal shadows as problems needing to be cured. I myself have tried to fix sadness with more busyness, or masked my burnout by labeling it as commitment to my goals.
Most times, I was rushing toward the light, trying to stay ahead of the darkness without even hearing what it had to say.
Tonight I chose to revisit one of my favorite poems, which served as the first spark into my journey of alignment and is also deeply symbolic to me with the longest night of the year. The poem is by Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī, the thirteenth century Persian poet and translated by Coleman Barks.
It suggests that darkness isn’t an intruder nor something that needs to be fixed. Instead, it’s a piece of the whole. A reminder that what hurts you, blesses you. This took me years to understand. When I first encountered these words, I didn’t fully grasp their meaning.
It became a full circle moment when I began to practice energy work. The darkness was not something negative or ‘bad’ about me. It was a space, a void, where I hid hidden all the heavy parts of my life so I didn’t have to see them.
But this void was truly my blessing, because it gave me the capacity to know and understand the deep layers of pain, guilt, grief, and shame on a more multidimensional level. It’s as if I had unconsciously been stretching my ability to hold both the light and the dark.
What was most surprising was that the more I released the weight of these emotions by allowing them to resurface and listening to them, I began to look at the void as a space to now fill with love, compassion, kindness, and an internal strength to overcome and evolve.
I came to understanding that light only exists because of shadow, and that the radiance I am able to hold is equivalent to the depths at which I’m able to sit in my darkness. To understand it, love it, and accept it as much as I do the light. To be whole. Each line is an opportunity for reflection, another gateway to explore, and another treasure awaiting discovery.
I’ve included the text of the poem in its entirety below, as well as an option to listen (which is my favorite way to experience this poem):
Shadow and Light Source Both
How does a part of the world leave the world?
How does wetness leave water?
Don’t try to put out fire by throwing on more fire. Don’t wash a wound with blood.
No matter how fast you run, your shadow keeps up.
Sometimes it’s in front.
Only full overhead sun diminishes your shadow. But that shadow has been serving you.
What hurts you, blesses you.
Darkness is your candle.
Your boundaries are your quest.I could explain this, but it will break the glass cover on your heart, and there’s no fixing that.
You must have shadow and light source both.
Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe.
When from that tree feathers and wings sprout on you, be quieter than a dove.
Don’t even open your mouth for even a coo.From Soul of Rumi
by Coleman Barks
Reflections for the Turning of the Year
As mentioned above, every line has meaning and is an invitation to reflect. However, I have selected three lines from the poem to carry with you and to help you sit with your shadow instead of trying to outrun it. You can also save these for your next quiet morning, or for your end-of-year reflections:
1. “But that shadow has been serving you.”
Looking back at this past year, what is a challenge or difficulty that you’ve been trying to outrun this year? How did it protect you or contribute to a change in direction or the pace of your life?
2. “Don’t try to put out fire by throwing on more fire.”
Where have you been trying to fix your stress by staying busier, or your exhaustion by working harder? Where can you stop ‘doing’ and start just ‘being’ this week?
3. “Your boundaries are your quest.”
What boundary or boundaries will protect your alignment and inner peace in the coming year, and which ones are ready to be expanded or explored?
A personal note: This one is always my favorite and I come back to it every year. Boundaries can be seen as walls to keep things out, or as I prefer to see them, gateways meant to let in the things that are meant for me.
As we move through these final days of 2025, I hope you allow yourself the love, compassion, and grace to stop running.
May you find that your shadows aren’t something to fear, but a place to rest and listen to what the quiet is trying to tell you.
So, with love and my deepest gratitude for being here, and being you.
If you are interested in exploring how to discover more about your own soul’s journey, I would be honored to work with you. You can learn more or contact me here.
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