A Lover of the Light – a story.

For Saint Lucia’s Day, December 13th.

There is something about heartbreak that shows us the centre of life, the very innermost nerve. The beating of that Universal, grand old heart.

The lover was lying on the bedroom floor, brought to knees by sorrow. The tears originating from the depth of the soul were the signs of mourning for something that was no longer. A love lost.
Yet, in the middle of that sea of despair, the lover noticed there was also a sense of cleansing. The loss of love lay waste to every structure one has built and fooled oneself to believe was the foundation of love.

After the initial fire that tragedy ignites, sorrow sweeps in and starts a cleansing, the lover thought. Sorrow was a pure feeling. There was no jealousy, no blame, no… nothing. Just sorrow. It was like the rain falling at a funeral: one life had come to an end and still new life was beginning.
New life can and will eventually grow from the burnt grounds of tragedy – the wound inflicted by love will be healed by love. So it was that the lover realized that there are two beings of light that come knocking on our doorLife and Death.

The being of Life is the most subtle one, often overlooked, pushed to the side, its light knocks ignored. Life’s knocks manifests as little signs, hints towards where joy resides, reoccurring ideas and nudges. Often, we overlook this angel, being too busy with paying the bills, what the neighbor is doing, too preoccupied with what the norms of  society dictate is the next step in our life. Whether it is getting an education, getting married, buying a house, having children and generally not doing much to disrupt the “order of things”.

Then, if the being of Life has knocked and knocked to no avail, it disappears. This is usually when we start to feel the weight of routine, where the space around us takes on a sticky, quicksand-like texture and grey becomes the dominant color scheme of daily existence.

One day, a loud knock falls on our door. A knock we cannot overhear or ignore. This is the second being of light, Death. This being often brings with it a tragedy, an event that we cannot push aside but have to relate to. It forces us to change, lays our inner fields to waste with its fire of destruction, of rebirth. This being is often called brutal, merciless and has been misunderstood for being a being of “darkness”. Yet nor Life or Death is personal, but they are messengers. Of Love, of change, of development. The only room to maneuver is thus in the choice. Do we listen to Life or to Death? 

This is how the lover became a lover of the light. From experience and by choice.




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