Fruitful Darkness

In the autumn of each year, the multitude of plants and animal species that animate the landscapes of the Northeast are preparing for the coming winter. The culmination of the life-purpose of many trees and plant species reaches fruition, and their berries, fruits, nuts, and seeds burst forth upon the landscape. Individual plants cast their fate to the wind, to chance, that their genes might survive beyond the winter kill, reborn as seedlings amidst the crushed and tangled bones of last year's growth. 

Birds have arrived in their wintering grounds, while hibernating mammals, and reptiles and amphibians have descended to their subterranean abodes. Late fall into early winter signals a period of suspended animation – a resting, waiting period. A command from nature to redirect energies inward. For me, winter has always been a powerful time of introspection. The veil between this world and the world of spirit thins, and I look through it for some understanding and perhaps healing. It is the time of year when I manage a few new paintings, and my writing tends to explore deeper mysteries of life. Emotionally and psychologically, I experience a sort of "catch-up". So much happens in my life every single day (especially during spring, summer, and fall) that one night's sleep is not sufficient to process the day's events, and so there is an accumulation of unfinished business. Winter can be a challenging time period emotionally. That is why dreaming is so important.

Some Native Americans believe that dreams contain special messages meant only for the one who receives the dream and it should not be recounted to others. Certain dreams have immense power. Other dreams may be shared, but always some part of the dream telling must remain secret lest our spirit become vulnerable to dark forces seeking to meddle and our newly received power foolishly dissipated.

"Irrational Landscape No. 2" - © Michael Gambino 1989Dreams come in many forms. Some of them are sweet and delicious, while some may be bitter and dreadful, tainted by food and drink, or the terrible news of the world. Most dreams we don't remember beyond a moment or two as we awake. They serve to reset our nervous system and discharge from our being various energies from the day's events. Yet some dreams manage to bridge that dark, infinite void between the dream world and our waking consciousness. They prowl restlessly about the corridors of our minds like a creature caught unexpectedly behind locked doors as we go about our daily sun-lit routines. Our task, should we choose to accept it, is to ponder the significance of such unexpected messages not with our intellect but rather with our heart.

For direction and healing, I shall look to my dreams and to the fruitful darkness of the coming winter.

Comments

[Deborah Moldow]

I love this painting! Do you have a gallery where we can see more? Love, Deborah

[melanie]

It's 5:19 am I've just finished reading the last three articles and viewing your amazing artwork and photos. Thank you for sharing your beautiful and profound thoughts and wisdom with those of us who are blessed enough to read them.
More please!
thank you,
with great love, admiration and respect,
Melanie