Transition of the Dark Days

The darkest days are upon us. I’ve had two encounters this week that will punctuate the transition of this Solstice forever in my memory.  Tuesday night I visited the Woodbourne State Correctional Facility.  Today, I witnessed a three family home engulfed in flames.

The trip through the lock down labyrinth was my first.  Many impressions: the aloof culture of the guards; the gratitude of the inmates for the visit; the distrust the inmates had for one another.  They were hardened and vulnerable simultaneously.  The suffering a few of them expressed about being incarcerated was so thick you could slice it.

And then there was the man, now 51, already with 25 years behind bars.  He told me his tale of attempted suicide…how he later became a suicide prevention teacher…how he had witnessed others take their lives behind bars…how he found a twelve step program…how he got honest…how he found Islam.  He shared that he will finally come up for parole next year, but has no idea how it will go.  He told me he’s ready to accept whatever gets decided.  He meant it.  It was clear that he already has his freedom.

Then this morning, the horrid image of the home spewing black smoke into the cold sky.  It seemed we were witnessing lives ruined, if not lost, ascending up into the sky.  A hush settled over the bus I was on as we stared in wide eyed amazement, the flames darting higher and higher, the column of smoke intensifying.

Notable images like these seem to deliver a message much as dreams can if we spend the time to dwell with them.  This Solstice, when the light is extinguished before it’s rebirth: the light of freedom within imprisonment and the destructive power of fire.  I have not wrapped my mind around this enigma fully, but I’m pondering the nature of the Spirit in the midst of our material world.