Richard Rohr is currently exploring the dance between darkness and light in which darkness often gets, in my view, an undeserved primarily negative view. In the Rohr blog, he notes that, “periods of darkness, confusion, and struggle as necessary for our transformation and growth. Experiences of darkness are good and necessary teachers. They are not to be avoided, denied, run from, or explained away.” He further explains that, “It really feels like the total absence of light, and thus the saints and mystics called it “the dark night.” In classic spirituality this is referred to as ‘the dark night of the soul’.
This concept resonates with me and brings to mind
my experience of the dark night which I refer to as the dark pub night of the
soul. The circumstances of this case are one of the most embarrassing of
my life. It happened when I was in my mid-fifties and was in the process
of ordination in the Anglican Church of Canada. Part of that process is
to spend time as a theology student in a parish under the supervision of the
parish priest.
I was, in my mind, a mature individual who was
very self aware and should have few problems in this role. Indeed, I set
out to make a very favourable impression on my supervisor and the members of
the congregation. I was, in effect, going to shine and ride to
glory. It turned out this was my overarching mistake which would be very
definite my Felix Culpa – my fortunate fall.
In my experience in this role, I discovered a lot
of my limitations which, although I was aware of them, I was unaware to the
extent to which they would be a challenge for me. My supervisor was very
good at pointing these out to me and not letting me ignore them. These
challenges came to a head when the parish was holding a pub night in which I
had an opportunity to perform – singing and playing my guitar. I decided
that this was my opportunity to shine and show some of my strengths rather
than, in my mind, the weaknesses that had been growing In my awareness.
I decided that I would sing and play one of my
long-standing favourite pieces, Suzanne by Leonard Cohen. I attended with
my wife Lorna and two close friends. As I waited my turn to take centre
stage, I began to drink wine, and I didn’t stop after a few drinks. By
the time I was called up to the stage I was well in my cups, as they say.
I don’t remember much of my time on stage except I attempted to say a few well
slurred words and launched into my version of the song. It did not do
well to say the least, but I did eventually manage to stagger off the stage
without falling down.
I came home – or rather was brought home and fell
into bed. I woke up at some point in the night and turned the radio on
and heard a piece of music on CBC radio which I had not heard before and
haven’t heard on the radio since. I was Whythorne’s Shadow by the
composer Earnest Moeran. Ah yes, confirmation of what I had started to
realize, I had been in thrall to my Shadow. Just to clarify, this is not
normal behaviour for me. I had been exposed in front of the very people I
wanted desperately to impress. I made a fool of myself and not in the
sense of a Fool in which I was in charge of the archetype. As noted in
Wikipedia, “bohemian lifestyle and heavy drinking during this period
interrupted his creativity for a while and sowed the seeds of the alcoholism
that would blight his later life.” By the way, he was, as I was, the son
of a clergyman. Yes, the Shadow certainly knows how to pick them.
I appear to have been doubly blessed with a visit
from the Shadow and synchronicity. Whythorne’s Shadow indeed. I
will close with a quotation form the poem Whythorne’s song by the
composer Thomas Whythorne on which Moeran’s work is based:
As thy shadow itself apply'th
To follow thee whereso thou go,
And when thou bends, itself it wry'th,
Turning as thou both to and fro:
The flatterer doth even so,
And shopes himself the same to gloze,
With many a fawning and gay show,
Whom he would frame for his purpose.
