In the Darkness, Hold on to What Is Within
Have you ever tried to balance on one leg with your eyes closed?
It’s not easy. We rely so much on our sense of sight to keep our balance. When we physically cannot hold on to something to steady ourselves, we need our eyes to do the grasping and holding on. We have to visually rely on something external to maintain our internal balance, our inner stability.
The moment we close our eyes, we falter. When we’re in the dark, we have trouble keeping ourselves straight and maintaining our stability. We sway wildly and jerk and feel — and fear — that we’re falling.
But what’s so bad about falling?
What’s so bad about struggling to stay upright?
What’s so bad about being in the dark with barely a leg to stand on and nothing to hold on to?
Maybe being in darkness is just another hidden opportunity. For us to exercise our inner strength. To cultivate our inner stillness. To practice our inner peace and stability.
Maybe being in darkness just shows us how to stand, shows us that we can stand, even when we feel like we’re falling. Even when we feel like we have nothing to hold on to. Even when we’re burdened and bound and blind and can’t see where it is we’re going or what it is we’re even facing.
Because maybe the darkness simply teaches us to hold on to what’s within.
So that one day, what’s within us will be strong enough to still us. Even in the darkest, most chaotic moments of our lives.
Let us each bravely face our darkness, and tenaciously build the kind of inner peace that runs so strong and deep that we can stand still — even on one leg — even in darkness — without needing to grasp outside of ourselves. Without desperately reaching out for something, or someone, to steady us. Without flailing and trying to hold on to something else outside of us.
We may falter. We may sway. We may fear. But we will not fall. Because we will be holding on to what’s within.
Most of all, let us use that strength to reach out and help others when they, too, are struggling to stand. Let our spirits be so strong and have enough breath and stillness to speak to those who feel, and fear, that they’re falling. To all those who are trying their mightiest to build their own inner peace and strength. To all those who are faltering and swaying wildly in the dark, with barely a leg to stand on, and nothing at all to hold on to.
In their darkness, they will hear us. And our voices — filled with the sound of our peace, our strength, our stillness — will give them hope.
Hope that they will make it through their own darkness. Hope that they can summon what it takes. Hope that it won’t be long now. Hope that they can carry on.
Hope that they are not alone.
Because amid the throes of every struggle, every fear, and every lonely, uncertain, chaotic, dark, lost moment of our lives, hope —
Hope is the one thing within ourselves that we can all, always, hold on to.