This morning I realized that I am in a period that was called by the Spanish mystic and poet St. John of the Cross the “dark night of the soul”. It’s a period of purification by trial. I have been dealing with losses of family members, by death or betrayal, a fractured foot, and am reviewing the path of my life and figuring out the direction from here as I make friends with death. When you get to my age, you do that, or you run scared. I don’t sense that I’m going any time soon; there’s still too much left for me to do. Yet, death is ever present. It’s an essential part of life in this realm. Other realms have different laws. As with any difficulty I go out by the river or into the trees to find a place for my soul to rest. I turn to the story with gratitude, for the spiritual illumination that can be found as the tale unwinds. It occurs to me that this country is also in a “dark night of the soul”, with the question being, will we choose compassionate ideas and laws, and leaders who serve and are fit for the job, or will we choose dictatorial pawns who assume authority for self gain, and wish to oppress and police citizens to enslave them to a false story. And this earth too is also in the place of challenge and shift, another level of the “dark night of the soul”. Will there still be trees and rivers when we are through with our buying and selling? I turn East to begin the day and take in breath. I give it back with prayer for my family, even those who mean to harm, knowing that we are all family: these lands, these communities, this earth. I turn back to tend the story with the words, images, and music I have been given and know that even the hardest parts of loss and heartbreak are what shines the soul and opens the door to understanding, to love.