Chapter Twelve - Part Three - Cultivation of Shadows and Light

Nothing is more delightful on a hot, summer's day than a deep dark shadow, dappled shade or a passing cloud. Yet, in our lives we resent these obstructions of the light in our path. Refusing to look at them, we gaze at the sun stubbornly, the "good" parts of our lives. The result is obvious in a material sense, we become blinded, and in a symbolic sense we project those shadows onto the people around us, blind to the fact that they are our own. These projected villains must play one role only in our lives, and that is to make us look at our own shadow finally.

This is a big reason that I'm choosing to plant an orchard rather than melons or some low-growing, faster-developing crop that casts only the smallest shadows in the brilliant sunshine. I plan to enjoy the dark shadows that fall beneath the canopy of my storied place. My goal is to fall in love with the villains as much as the heroes finally. Because without the villains poking the heroes like voodoo doctors there would be no chance of the heroes' transformations. I plan to sink down to the tips of my tree's roots to find the nutrition of this fertile field.

When you think of the combination of shadows and roots, as compared to the trees, leaves and branches and fruit, it really comes out about equally in terms of light and dark. The birds and butterflies interact with the canopy. The worms and ants interact with the roots. All told there are stories abounding above and below in a constant rhythm of life. And, me? I get to walk in the dappled sunlight between the worlds, looking up to the backlit green, and looking down into the pithy earth. My role is to be a caretaker of words, and let them flow and grow, and nurture them as well as I can.

How does one let writing happen? In the past it was all about forcing the growth, plotting and planning some idea into shape and size. To think of it as cultivation rather than production is something new. Cultivating an atmosphere in my brain where life can take hold and courageously grow means that I am more a channel than a manufacturer. It means that all I can do is hold a vision in my mind of that full grown peach tree, the blossoms, the leaves, the deep roots and finally the fruit, and do things like water, prune and fertilize.

Like I've said before, I've got the fertilization part down.

There's a spring-fed stream at the bottom of my field. It has sometimes become choked with debris and causes a soggy flooding of my field. So as the shadows grow longer this summer, and the sun creeps down South, I'll be working at clearing the stream and investigating ways of irrigating. How does one irrigate up hill? It must be possible. A tree may need 5 gallons of water per watering. How can a writer divvy up the emotions of experience so that there is just enough and not too much?

Right now I'm not at all worried about pruning. When the time comes to edit my work, I will turn to an expert for help. Now, I just want to set up the field so it works for an orchard of trees to grow from pits. The sun is at its zenith today. It is really summer solstice finally. For the next three months, I'll be looking at the potential pits, preparing the field, and getting the irrigation set up finally so that it doesn't overwhelm the orchard next spring.

I'll keep in mind the delightful shade of an orchard as my intended end-game while I work away at the endless chores of a writer that seem sometimes more like delay and procrastination than like the preparation they should be. Writing, surprisingly is not all about putting the words on the page. Writing is more about the cultivation of space, time and the flow of emotions.

Chapter Twelve - Part Two - Non-material Light

Though we cannot hold onto material light because it comes and it goes, non-material Light is a different story entirely. What is it then? How can we hold it? Some wise sages have compared non-material Light to Love. Yet, even this becomes confusing as we imagine a grand romance between light and dark. It is not that kind of love, though certainly that is very ... uh ... lovely.

What I believe that non-material Light is is really closer to a shadowless day where everything is neutral finally, without contrast, where we can see both sides of the proverbial coin equally. Non-material Light is a fulcrum point upon which the world balances, kept in check. It is this point of peace that feels something like Love or acceptance or compassion for all. My favorite authors have achieved a sense of this by the end of their stories where the hero and the villain are equalized by the final outcome. Though it may seem the villain is "down," in fact, if the story is well-crafted this moment of gloom is the beginning of his or her journey to true balance.

In this balance of karma, of cause and effect, the zenith of power in the villain's life comes to an inevitable end, and the hero's darkest hour is redeemed. This is the story we read over and over again, and the movie we see over and over again, and we can't seem to get enough of it. It is quite simply as necessary to our existence as the nutrition of a well-grown peach. Understanding that we willingly re-order this show on cable and snicker over it in politics and hope for it when we spend $24 for a hard-cover novel, is accepting that this is what we came to earth to understand. We spin on a neutral axis, but we experience day and night. This sacred triangle of life is ever-moving, interacting and evolving (hopefully) so that when we're to the end of a life lived we have the sense that we've climbed a few of those spiral staircase steps, and have some perspective of our former innocence and our wisdom gained from the very trials we, at the time, wished we could avoid.

Down deep in the earth a peach pit is in a very dark place, yet something inside of it begins to grow. This life folded within the woodiness, begins to reach for something it only senses is good and necessary. How does it know? How can it imagine that one day it will be something more? Light. Curled in upon itself, like a new born in swaddling clothes, the strength of the seedling is able to break through the hard shell around it, and enter an unsafe world, reaching down for sustenance, reaching up for life, stretching and growing into something more than it was. When that seedling surfaces with a leaf, a single leaf, it finds the light, and strives for it. It must expand, become more than it was before, and it cannot stop this growing, adding a ring for every trip around that material light, until its journey is completely over. And, as it grows in the light, in the weather, and in time passing above the ground, so it is also growing down, and spreading into the seemingly impenetrable darkness. Without those deep, darkly surrounded roots, the peach would never happen.

So, it is that non-material Light, the Light of the World that is represented by these actions of pure intent, brings about peaches. Light, non-material Light, is appreciation. Appreciation from the heart is Joy. Joy is Contentment regardless of the circumstances. Contentment is Acceptance of the journey. Acceptance is Forgiveness of all the steps we took and missed. Forgiveness is Love for all that we are in our light and dark moments. Love is Light.