Susan Wright

Susan Wright

My Dark Night Story as the Search for Home

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“One of the oldest themes in feminine mythology is the search for home. Tales of separation and wandering have been repeated through the ages, the question, ‘Where is my home?’ the plaintive lament of the woman in exile. Dispossessed, denigrated, diminished, the role of the powerful feminine, the goddess, in society has been subordinated to male gods leaving a passive narrowly subscribed shell where once passion, eroticism and playfulness reigned along with ambition, authority and dominion. The patriarchy has existed for eons and it is no less relevant today as we women, daughters of the patriarchy, still search for our rightful place, the qualities in ourselves that will make us whole and the roles in society that would bring these qualities to bear for the good of the world.”[i]

My dark night story is all about my search for home. This particular stage of my journey essentially involves a transition from identification with my material home, the outward place I live, to identification with my spiritual home, the inward place I dwell.  However, I can also see the arc of my entire life story as focused on home. It is the thread that keeps recurring in the tapestry of my life, sometimes by my own choice and sometimes not.

The facts of the story are that I have lived in 23 homes so far in my six decades, an average of 3 years each, the shortest duration a few months and the longest a few years. In just the past 4 years of this dark night journey, I have moved 3 times, lived in 5 different homes, and done 3 complete renovations. On the surface, there were always rational reasons for these moves – my father was moved around in his job when I was a kid, I liked to fix up old houses and use the profit to fund my schooling, I wanted to be close to my son and grandsons. Underneath these tangible facts, though, was a deeper seeking, a drive for a sense of home that despite all my efforts I was missing.

It has taken a long time to realize I needed to turn inward. I have pursued serial careers, degrees and partnerships, each one expanding the scale and depth of my capacity in the field of change, most directly or indirectly centred on a sense of place, of helping others to feel more at home in their worlds. Ironically, only recently have I recognized that change in all these outward dimensions has diminishing returns without the correlative degree of change on the inside, in the evolution of our own consciousness. It is only in the past year I have been able to name this transition in me as a dark night and begin to inquire into its characteristics, although I see it stretching back at least 4 or 5 years.

It began with a feeling I needed a change of focus. My work had become less satisfying and life seemed to be missing something, a spark or new energy. I first did another degree program, looking for new stimulation that didn’t materialize. I thought a move to the country might do the trick, a new environment, new people and a new lease on life. When that didn’t work, I decided to retire and move to a new city on the other side of the country, again looking for the magic. And on it went, searching on the outside for something that could only be found on the inside.

With each of these unsuccessful attempts, it was becoming clearer I needed to concentrate not on doing but on being, a dramatic shift of my energy and intention. It was like cracking an egg. In slow motion, everything fell apart. I experienced breakdown, depression and darkness for a couple of years. It wasn’t continuous but would come in cycles, usually punctuated by my failure to find my place in the outside world, driving me back into my dark inner world. It was a time of incredible turmoil as I let go of who I was and searched for who I would become.  I vacillated between frenzied energy and complete exhaustion, hopefulness and despair. The tools I had counted on – my agile mind and a persistent determination – didn’t seem to count anymore. Feelings seemed to rule the day, everything from anger, frustration, sadness to apathy, isolation, loneliness.

However, as I worked my way through, I found a growing sense of rebirth, joy and freedom. I began to experience laughter, lightness and love. I was very fortunate to have a group of friends and colleagues who supported me through my inner journey. I see it now as a spiritual quest, seeking my essential nature, my ultimate home in myself. In addition to attending and leading personal development workshops over these last years, I have meditated twice daily, filled several journals, read countless books, done silent and guided retreats, and spent long hours in stillness. I have also had the benefit of many deep conversations that have provided insights and inspiration along the way. It is hard work. It takes courage and the patience and support of others. The result is a coming home to grace, that spacious indwelling of joy in being alive, compassion for others, and loving embrace of all that is. I am grateful every day.

[i] The Hunger for Home

By Zenju Earthlyn Manuel – Spring 2018 In Upaya Newsletter

 

The Dark Feminine in Myth

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This essay is the Appendix in my book Dark Night: Reclaiming the Discarded Other. It forms a bookend with the Preface which is a precis of my dark feminine night. I have not repeated the story of Inanna but you can find it here.  Together, they point to the timeless nature of these tales.

A myth is essentially a culture’s fundamental worldview in narrative form, defining and explaining the values and ideals of the day, often told in dramatic fashion through the activities of gods and goddesses. In early times, these figures were often named for natural elements such as Poseidon for water, Apollo for sun, Aphrodite for desire, justifying powerful forces beyond human control. Myths were expressed in speeches, poetry and plays, told repeatedly in the oral tradition and adapted to the needs of the times, gradually becoming part of literature and lore. They were less practically factual than they were a means to shape social behaviour and religious thought. Today, myths are understood to be part of every culture, referring to the underlying patterns of a society’s goals, fears, ambitions and dreams. Mythological themes are often used as frameworks for modern storytelling and expressed through a variety of media to audiences all over the world.

Joseph Campbell has been referred to as the father of modern mythological studies, comparing myths through time to create a “monomyth”, a universal structure for storytelling that has been used across time and geography, what he calls “the hero’s journey”. His story structure has been used countless times in movies, including Star Wars, Indiana Jones, The Matrix and The Lion King, and in the television series Community. In The Hero with a Thousand Faces Campbell explains that as humans we need some way of describing the unfathomable, the ineffable, and we do that through the use of metaphors found in myths. These metaphors allow us to describe the transcendent beyond words, the psychic unity of darkness and light, conscious and unconscious, masculine and feminine that bring us into wholeness.

Inasmuch as Campbell’s monomyth reflects the underlying social patterns through the ages, it also reflects a masculine bias toward the hero, the male adventurer who is supported by female nurturers, guides and challengers on the road to replacing the patriarchal father as head of the kingdom. So although included in his interpretations, the feminine and particularly the dark feminine is underplayed and deserves highlighting for its distinctive perspective in myths through the ages.

The Dark Feminine is represented by what I have called the Discarded Other, that core part of our psyche we have repressed, held in the shadows of the unconscious. If we do not turn inward to recognize this essential hidden quality in ourselves and expose it to the light, the powerful dark energy can erupt into consciousness bringing with it a fiery rage, fear, greed, prejudice or addiction. Our attachment to the monomyth and our resistance to its feminine counterpart leave our current culture dangerously out of balance.

Many of the feminine goddesses embody this dark energy and its potential for fiery eruption. For example, Kali, the black Hindu goddess of death and violence, stands with her multiple arms arrayed for battle on the body of her husband the lord Shiva. As with many of the feminine myths, she has a light counterpart, Parvati, who is said to have shed her dark skin to create Kali, the fierce Other.

Sekhmet is another powerful warrior goddess, portrayed in Egyptian mythology as a lioness with a red sun, the colour of blood, on her head, her role to protect justice and balance in all things. She represents a fiery power and harsh strength that can be destructive. Her sister counterpart is Hathor, a gentle, friendly other side who is full of joy, laughter and dance.

In the Christian tradition, there is the Black Madonna, the dark feminine counterpart to the Virgin Mary. Statues of the ancient Black Madonna have been discovered throughout Europe, representing the dark pole of the feminine, the unconscious, mysterious and unpredictable. She is said to have descended from Isis, the Eqyptian goddess, as both divine and nocturnal. However, only the pure light of the Virgin was incorporated into the sacred texts, discarding the threatening dark sister.

There are numerous other powerful dark female goddesses worth exploring:  Lilith in early Jewish mythology, Medusa in somewhat later Greek mythology, or Pele of Hawaiian mythology. One of my favourites is the goddess Hestia, or Vesta to the Romans, who was fire itself, representing the warmth of hearth and home rather than a fiery spirit.

The twinning or sisterhood repeated in these different mythological traditions symbolizes the integration of darkness and light, the unconscious and conscious, the masculine and feminine qualities brought together. One of the oldest and best-known feminine myths is the story of Innana and her dark sister Erishkagal. I tell it fully here with a process and some end notes to give a sense of how a myth can portray the integration of polarities, and can be allegories for life and death, the seasons, the sun and moon, and other mutual relationships.

Which of the feminine myths might be a parallel to your story? You might do some research online to find the one that mirrors your journey. Or you might decide as part of your writing to create your own myth. How would it look?  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Dark Witch

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Nastos, an endless longing for home, for an archetypal abode of comfort and belonging whose reality is palpable even while we know there is no such place on earth. 

Marlene Schiwy, Gypsy Fugue

What is it about home for me? Of course, there is the vagabond, the adventurer, the renovator, the restless change agent with serial careers, educations, partners, searching for the “abode of comfort and belonging”, good for a while but then inevitably the itching, the discontent, the seeing of holes in the story.  A temporariness about life.

Is it not trusting that it will last? Getting in front of the inevitable abandonment? That’s part of it perhaps. I felt abandoned as a child. My mother, pictured here, wanted to be an artist, or out dancing, partying, not stuck with three little kids and her husband’s elderly mother. Or at least that’s the story I’ve told myself. It makes some sense as it allows me to be a seeker, a yearner for home.

But what if that’s not it? What else is here? Maybe I entered the world feeling abandoned by my spiritual home, not ready to be here, not wanting this home and yearning to be back, safe, without suffering. Did I know this was a ‘life sentence’ at some level? I do have the sense I arrived angry, a mad as hell little creature who wasn’t at home and was not to be comforted.

So my mother, then, was not the abandoner. She was the rescuer, the comforter, provider for my needs in this world where I didn’t belong. She was in a sense the victim, not the perpetrator and I was inconsolable. Wow! What a dark witch!!

If that’s so, then the search, the sadness, the yearning for home is something I cannot have here on earth. I am destined to wander, to seek and not find, lament and rage and hunger for what I can never have, to suffer until the return and gift of death. I can find a kind of home here if I understand it is not ultimate or infinite, always partial and temporary. I can begin to understand the dark feminine in me that disrupts, destroys, is careless and selfish and demanding in my search for what I can’t have. I have lived my life as a temper tantrum, like a two-year old, dedicated to my own path despite the consequences for myself and others. I have been running my baby carriage into the wall, a story often told of me as a toddler, all my life.

What are the consequences then of this hidden dark path? Restlessness, hunger, inability to really love, to trust another, or even myself? Always looking for what’s NOT there, at some level knowing it’s not right, not whole. This dark feminine, my dark sister, has been bubbling below the surface and erupting when the pressure built without my even knowing it. My vagabond has been running away from life and love as well as seeking adventure and discovery. I have told myself countless times, perhaps home is just around the corner – a new job, new interest, new relationship, out there somewhere waiting if I just persist, adapt, keep looking.

So now after a long dark passage and a reunion with my dark inner sister, I know home is not out there, it’s in here, as good as it gets. What does that teach me? To acknowledge and honour the dark feminine energy but not let it drive me, to bring it into balance and wholeness. To allow both the gypsy and the settler, the permanent and sustaining as well as the transient and temporary, and to know they are interwoven, inseparable, the darkness and the light as opportunity in every moment.

 

You Already Know

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Turn toward the smoldering darkness whence you came, and thank her for shaping you, for scaring you, for wounding you.

Bayo Akomolafe

I have done a number of writing workshops with Marlene Schiwy, a wonderful teacher, a Jungian scholar, and the author of Gypsy Fugue, a deepIy satisfying book on the feminine journey. She often suggests that you stop when doing a writing practice to ask yourself the question, “What do you mean by…?” when a word you have used catches you. This is one of those practice writings.  The painting is my paternal grandmother who lived with us until she died when I was five, painted by my mother.

I descend into the darkness. Sitting there in a battered armchair is an old woman, long white hair, brown lined face, so much life written on it…

“Come, child, ask me what you want to know, ask me what you already know and want to hear me say to you.”

“What more is there for me to do, to accomplish?”

”Aah, what do you mean by accomplish?”

“I mean more of life for me to live, more to contribute, to experience, to be.”

“Yes, and you know the answer. You must surrender to it. You must do what you can to be you. That is all there is. There is no more.”

“But you told me there is more and I can choose.” “Yes, child, you can choose more or not. It is the same. Just be you, live you, love you into the world, into others. That is the more you can choose. That is what else is here.”

I know in that long heartbeat that I am looking into my own divine feminine, my mother and grandmother and all my female ancestors, my lineage and me. I AM THAT! It is what we all learn sooner or later. I know it now. I have all the information, the clues and messages I’ve been given. I am to take them and do what I can with them, with me.

The old woman, the beautiful old soul is mine, my guide, my whole Self. She hands me her heart and says, “Take this. This is the heart of all who have preceded you.”

“What kind of a heart is it?”

“It is love, that is what the cosmos is sending you, gifting you, a red pulsing heart of love and belonging that is yours to have and to hold and to give to others, a slender thread of connection to the cosmos.”

“What do you mean by the cosmos?”

“I mean the larger whole of which you are part – that vast past and forever that is one sweet song of Life Death. It is the big picture, the painting of all time to which we each contribute a brushstroke, a line, a tone, a colour. That is what doing what you can to be is about, not painting the whole canvas, just your own true moment, your deep song.”

“What is my deep song?”

It is that part of you that is unique – your essence, your psyche, your soul. The song only you can sing in this lifetime, the one note you can uniquely add to the song of the world, of the ancients, of the cosmos, the song that is being continuously created, the song of all our hearts lifted as One.”

The Coaching Project is Transitioning

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After a long absence, I am writing with the purpose of providing some context for the changes in me and the world around me that have led to this gap. The Coaching Project has transitioned to new interests and priorities over the past couple of years, reflecting my own transitions in life.

Just as TCP was a pioneer in the field of Leaders Coaching Leaders, we are setting out again to explore the role of leadership and coaching in the final stages of life. Some of the questions I have been pondering that have led to this shift in direction are: How can we share our gifts of wisdom and experience after we leave the workplace? How can we contribute to our imperiled world as elders? How can our own living and dying lead the way for others?

I hope to share some of my own story and a few of the exciting new directions emanating from these changes. This newsletter will now become a blog on an updated website and will focus on these new adventures as they unfold.

I would like to thank the many, many people who have contributed to our success over the last 15 years – clients, colleagues, leaders and managers, students, associates, friends. I am tremendously grateful to all who have supported, mentored, and travelled this path along with me. A deep bow to you all.

A New Beginning

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In our coaching and training we have consistently used our three-stage process as shown in the model below. Each stage answers a question: What’s So? So What? What’s Next? I have used these questions to reflect on my recent experience and to give a sense of completion to this chapter in The Coaching Project’s history.



cs_leadership1

What’s So?


I often say retirement is harder than it looks. I have been working on it for half a dozen years. I began by moving across the country to Vancouver to be close to my son and his family, to step back from the intensity of work and travel. However, I was soon designing a new leader coach certificate program for Simon Fraser University, chairing the board of a nonprofit, and co-leading a community dedicated to the evolution of consciousness. I quickly realized I hadn’t really changed at all.


I then became deeply engaged in my own inner journey for the first time in my life, meditating, reading, being silent, confronting my own transition to a new stage of life and wondering, as Otto Scharmer says, Who am I and What is my work? I began to study, write and present on the concept of home, being at home in myself, with others and in the wider world.


At this time, I lost a number of loved ones to illness and old age. Friends, colleagues, relatives, they seemed to be falling like dominoes. This led me even deeper inside my own skin. I attended retreats, spent longer periods in silence and solitude, read about death and dying voraciously, and began to reflect on how I too was dying to my old self. When my long term relationship also ended, it seemed death was everywhere – in me, those I loved, and in our dying world. I began to think of this period as a proverbial dark night, full of sadness, depression and isolation, with no escape.


So What?


I have gained a number of valuable insights from this prolonged dark period. One is that having emerged on the other side into a buoyant lightness, I find it imperative to carry forward the time for stillness and introspection that has been so critical throughout the transition. Although I have never been religious, I feel this inward path is a spiritual one, a spacious surrender to the moment, letting go of expectations, judgements and past conditioning. I also realize the tremendous gift in the darkness. Having allowed myself the time and space to experience it, to be challenged by it, I feel transformed, reborn into a new self I can get to know, to learn to feel at home as this new me. The darkness holds the light within itself.


Another insight is that using myself as the instrument of my own learning and experience, I arrive at a place where I can share some of this dark night with others. It may be simply creating some circles of interest in the topics I am drawn to – that would be more than enough. Or it may, like The Coaching Project, expand to fill a need that is larger than my own. One advantage of being on the thin edge of the wedge of the baby boom as I enter my 70th year, is that there are 80 million (LINK) others coming along behind, I suspect with many of the same questions and concerns I am wrestling with.


Coming from an integral perspective, I can also see that nothing has been lost in this transition. Leading and coaching are vitally important in the later stages of life. The Coaching Project has an important role to play in this pioneering work. For example, there are coaches calling themselves ‘death doulas’ now emerging to support those who are dying and their families. There is a huge need to assist elders with their end of life planning; coaches and innovative organizations are emerging to address this need. And there are many opportunities for leadership within our own circles as well as in shaping and contributing to the institutions that will support us as we face our own end.


What’s Next?


I have retired from my previous focus; I have died to my old self. But having been reborn, I am beginning again, again. Called to adventure by my own experience and incorporating my own history, I am focusing on end of life issues, including dying. I have designed a course with a workbook called The Art of Dying.


Over the six weeks, we look at the philosophical and practical issues associated with end of life, and express individual perspectives and wishes in an art form like poetry, drawing, collage, improv, or journaling. I have run this program for groups of 5 to 15 four times now, and I’m beginning to train facilitators to deliver the program so that the impact spreads more quickly. The purpose is simply to provoke conversations about dying, a taboo subject in our culture.


I am also beginning to develop a circle devoted to end of life spirituality, that natural turning inward that occurs in maturity, and how sharing our views and concerns might contribute to a healthier, happier elderhood. I continue to be a member and leader of several other circles with interest in the development of our consciousness as individuals, how who we are has implications for our communities and our wider world. Please be in touch by email if any of these topics are of interest to you. The Coaching Project will continue to offer coaching and programs beginning in the fall of this year.


In the meantime, I am traveling and experiencing new people and places, all informing my global sensitivities. And I am writing, beginning with this closing of a finished chapter and opening of a new one.  I am home.