Even the darkness is not dark to thee (Ps 139.12a)

Walking through the valley of darkness – a delightful experience

“Walking in the dark” can be utterly meaningful. I am not thinking of “dark” in a metaphorical sense, in terms of evil, danger or total loss of direction. Instead I am thinking of physical darkness as something good that can be used in a constructive sense, as comfort, shelter or resting place. I am also writing this against the background of increasing talk about how negative and depressing the dark season is in the northern hemisphere. (The careful reader will find that what is said here is in some ways contradicted by what is said in the following blog: A life in tension, 19 December.)

This is what I did; more precisely, it happened on 23 August this year, and ever since I thought I have to write about it. It was such an inspiring moment. At ten o’clock at night I strolled down from our house under the big oak trees to the stream at the end of our property. Only when opening the door to the old laundry house sitting right on the little river (the house was used as a fire-wood heated laundry by the washer women from the village until the 1960s, now it is used as a sauna and a change room) I realised that summer had run away with the soft, delightful late evening light. The Nordic summer was gone; it was pitch-dark. A moment later, just having dived into the water, I experienced something extraordinary, I thought. Not only had I found my way down the slope as always, I had also undressed, put my watch on that particular hook just at the door post and had slid comfortably down the stairs on the jetty into the water, without in fact seeing anything with my eyes. A strong sense of well-being went through my body, a sense of belonging, of home-coming. No wonder, I know this place since I was young and I had gone through the procedure of entering the stream many times before. Dark or not, I know the way.

What is so remarkable with this experience? It is not that it is unusual, but rather that we are not always aware of its significance. Human life consists of acquired knowledge through certain habits that have been developed since infancy, like for example taking the (right) hand and bringing it to the mouth. Life is then in a fundamental way constructed on basis of various physical movements, most of which we are not even aware. One can here learn a lot from certain Zen Buddhists (not least Daisetz Teitaro Suzuki) who have developed an acute awareness around certain actions and exercises. It is for example about watchfulness regarding the immediate environment and attention to detail. There is no secret that such exercises of a most fundamental character also have a bearing on meditation and contemplation opening the door to interpretations of the ultimate reality. One particular exercise could be mentioned here. A young man went to see a fencing master with the idea of learning the art of fencing. To the dismay of the young man the master did not put up a programme for him but just let him stay with him in his house. Without exactly knowing why the young man stayed on but came to a point where he had to take courage and challenge the master telling him that his teaching had to start without delay. The master started to teach. While busy with the house hold chores the young man had to endure being hit with a stick by the master. A period of two years followed and by now the young man had learnt to parry (ward off) almost all the various hits that the master showered over him in the house hold, but now he had had enough. He now sought an opportunity to hit the master with a final blow with his stick from behind. He saw the moment coming when the master bowed down in order to stir the pots boiling vegetables; but the master was prepared; he warded off the blow of the stick with the pot lid. Now, finally, the young man understood the secret that now had become his own possession. There are no short-cuts to becoming a master, only continuous, relentless exercise will do (see Hjalmar Sundén, Zen, Historik, analys och betydelse av Zen-buddhismen i våra dagar. Stockholm: Wahlström & Widstrand, 1967, p 111f).

It is so simple and so fundamental and we all have the insight but may not consciously draw any conclusions. We all know that if we have stayed long enough in a room we can move about finding our way even in complete darkness. My own stroll down to the stream is not more remarkable than that. And yet, it means everything. It means a complete identification spiritually, mentally and physically and it means that there is a basis for entering new, untested paths. Without exercise, training, without watchfulness and attention to detail you get nowhere, you do not even live; only with purposeful training after having discovered which fencing master you should serve, will you reach somewhere, and God knows, then the sky is the limit.