Come Sit With Me in the Dark

Come sit with me in the dark.

I know you’re there. I know you feel lost. I was once lost too.

The dark was scary. I couldn’t see where I was going. I couldn’t see anything. I would trip and hurt myself, and every fall seemed to add to my anxiety. Everything piled on.

Things are different now. I’m not really sure how it happened, or even why. Maybe at some point I broke my flashlight and stopped trying so hard to find my way.

I started using my eyes instead.

At first, it was difficult. Then I began to notice things I had never seen before. The sea of stars above me. The flickering of fireflies. The sounds of the night.

Somehow, the dark became less frightening.

I changed my relationship with my surroundings. What once felt threatening became familiar. Eventually, the dark became a place I could call home.

A place I could escape to.

A place where I could find peace.

I can picture it now. A tent. A small fire. A blanket. A night spent beneath the stars.

I keep coming back because I know I’ll find you here.

Or maybe we’ll find each other.

I’d invite you to share my fire. I’d offer you a blanket for comfort and share some food. There would be no expectations. No need to explain yourself.

Just a pause.

A place to rest and recuperate.

I’d listen.

I’d listen to whatever needs listening to. I’d receive whatever needs to be received. I’d witness you as you are, right here, right now.

We can put down whatever we’re carrying for now.

Unburden ourselves, at least for a little while.

Breathe.

There is no rush to pick it back up.

There is no rush at all.

Be here with me in the dark.

Rest.

Repair.

Recharge.

Breathe.