Let’s Begin in the Darkest of Times

Four years ago, in just a few months really, I lost two of the people closest to me in the world. I lost my sister to cancer and my husband to life. My sister, Sandy, gave me so many gifts. Among them her complete acceptance of and even delight in every weird thing about me. She was always willing to laugh or cry with me at any time of the day or night. We had a bond that remains unsevered. And then the year ended with the unexpected death of my long-time neighbor and honorary family member. I could look into Linda’s kitchen across the street from the window at my kitchen sink. She beeped her horn for me every time she pulled out of her driveway, affectionately called me Hussy, traded me whiskey for Christmas cookies and had her own seat at nearly every family gathering and holiday. My internal and external landscapes were forever changed.

Though there have been many dark moments, this time has not been without its magic. Like the friends, colleagues and family who stayed in touch nearly daily to keep me afloat. The most persistent were the most wonderfully unexpected. And then there was the 70-year-old white-bearded terminal cancer patient who smoked cigars, said little and was accompanied by an ancient dog who swayed on stiff legs. He appeared when no one else would come to help me finish the work on my house that was essential to me moving forward. He revealed little bits of his storied past as he completed one task after another with beautiful craftsmanship. After a year of literally helping to reconstruct my life, as if his life work was done, Lou went on ahead.

In the darkest of times, we can still seek out the light. It is often in the womb of this darkness that new life begins to emerge. Like the forest that burns to the ground, from the depths of pain, anxiety and sorrow can sprout new beginnings. In this spirit, I am resurrecting my blog, Internal Luminosity. This blog is about that internal light we always have—the luminosity within that forever awaits being released into the world.

Without certainty of where this very personal work will lead or whether there is even an audience for it, I have been intuitively urged to write and to share about my grief and my embattled efforts to become whole again. It seems appropriate that I should begin this undertaking in one of our darkest of times in history and on the darkest day of the year, the Winter Solstice. Because tomorrow will literally be a little lighter, and we’ll be a little closer to ending the virus that has held us hostage for so many months.

So, I will share my poetry, my interests, my expertise, my grief and my little joys. I don’t know if the writing will be good or if it will speak to a need that you have. What I do know is that something within me needs to be let out—my own internal luminosity. I invite you to embrace the darkness and seek out the light with me. Join me if you feel moved to.

And, so, I begin again,

Kim Becomes Light