Those Who Have Walked In Darkness Have Seen A Great Light

2020 Present
I wrote a song many years ago to illuminate the best gift I could find in the darkness of depression that so often overwhelmed me. Like most of my songs, Those Who Have Walked In Darkness Have Seen A Great Light came fully formed from someplace inside. That's one of the things that I think is so amazing about creativity: it just happens if you respect it enough to let go of what you already know and get curious about what's trying to be born. Anyway... I hadn't considered before this song blew in how even a pinhole of light can inform the darkness... and how often that small bit can be like the first spark of a hard-earned fire that grows as you feed it fuel.

In 2020 Those Who Have Walked In Darkness just might actually be a year-end holiday song, even though it wasn't written as one. This year has brought unforeseen and unwelcome darkness of some degree for everyone on the planet. For those of us, like me, who count ourselves as relatively lucky through it all, it still has been a year that took our breath, and therefore our words to address it, away.

But I can stand by these words in this song, I can say them out loud, as my prayer for the whole world in this time where so many of us celebrate the idea that light is always there, even when it is the darkest time:

Those who have walked in darkness shall see a great light
I promise if you haven't seen it, can't believe it, it's still there
As you find your way through your nights and through your days may it guide you
And when there's only darkness and shadow in sight
Remember, there are angels hovering round to cover you with prayer
Praying without ceasing for love and joy increasing in your heart, and the world.

So I hope you enjoy this song, that it makes your day a little more merry and bright. And here are some other songs that may be comforting or inspiring for you as we create a 2020 holiday filled with meaning.

Those Who Have Walked In Darkness
Lullaby (Child of Winter)
Winter Skies

A Little Poem of Hope

2020 took our breath away
In so many sad moments beyond words but deeply ingrained in our souls
As my heart softens with this truth
I say to those of us still here, still moving
I celebrate the light you’re still bringing.
Inevitably, cellularly changed by the demands of transformative times,
Let’s go forth and shine and greet the next day.

Personal Update 2020
In the face of coronavirus, there’s not much that seems worth a seasonal update… Yet two things stand out as personal bookends for this remarkable year:

Let's start the year with Covid
Late March/early April my brother Phil and his group home household sickened with covid. Elderly plus mentally and physically handicapped, these six men along with their caregivers were all sick and on the front lines of the worldwide fight for available supplies - from thermometers to masks to food to nursing support. And the world was stuck in lockdown against an enemy we had never fought before.

There was too much to do, too quickly, for too many. Yet angels appeared. Sick himself, Darnell Williams, my brother’s house manager, kept the house running. My daughter Andra sourced toilet paper and takeout for them from God knows where. My son Lucas sent money, our friends did too. People I will never know to thank dropped off sanitizer and masks once Andra's social media campaigns started rolling. I wrote my brother’s final directives (as his power of attorney). And then - he got well! Everyone but one of the residents - who all had it - got well!

This miracle is, as all 2020 miracles are, offset by the shadow of one of the men who not only died, but suffered alone, unable to state his case, lost in bureaucratic shuffle no matter how hard the staff tried to find him. 2020 always leaves a film, a stain, even when we’re talking about miracles.

The rest of the year for me and my family - right up until December - is a medley of grit, grace and falling short of what the year demanded. We were just glad to get through the pandemic, fires, heatwaves, and all without losing every last nerve ending. When we knew we couldn’t stand it any more, there’d be a momentary lull where we could laugh and regain what footing we could before the next bang threw us back off center.

Let's end it with a bang
And then, it’s December, before the next horrendous corona curve, where people think we might be climbing out of the hole without digging one at the same time…. And on December 4th, a clear sunny day, I bike ride my way into an accident where I wake up in the back of an ambulance on my way to Stanford Trauma Center. After 65 years of living I now know what it personally feels like to have my clothes cut off in the back of an ambulance. The amazement that comes from being covered with kindness by strangers who know nothing about me except I’m human and broken, while tears leak out of my eyes because this might be my last ride anywhere.

And yet here comes another bunch of miracles. Despite a cracked helmet that causes police and doctors to be amazed I’m still alive, I have no fractures, and a husband who comes and sits by my side then drives me home. And while the miracles continue, so does the shadow of inequity: The knowledge that you can afford to have this happen to you, get the necessary MRI’s and followup, take the time off work. How rich I am! How poor it is that this is not a usual experience for everyone.

Tim and I are action-oriented people, but we're waiting graciously these days for a signal that it really is time to move forward. Until then, we wish, whatever 2020 was, that it's over by tomorrow… but if it is not, we’ll do our best with what comes. And that is our anemic but honest wish for you all too. May you find and cling to the path of ease and flow as much as possible. When the going gets less tough, I trust we'll all get going again!

Namaste