By Michael Meade

The mystic saint and writer John of the Cross wrote: “If a person wishes to be sure of the road on which they tread, they must close their eyes and walk in the dark.” John is also credited with using the phrase “the dark night of the soul” to describe a descent that takes us into ourselves. Those two images, being blind while walking an unknown path and descending to a dark night of the soul seem to serve as paired metaphors for the current state of collective humanity. The path we now tread together includes both the worldwide climate crisis affecting all of nature and the global coronavirus pandemic painfully spreading throughout human cultures.

There have been other strains of coronavirus; but the condition of the earth at this moment and the intensity of issues at all levels of life make this pandemic different. At some deep level, it has become necessary for collective humanity to gain a more conscious awareness of the psychological fact that we are all in this together.

We are in a collective rite of passage that requires a wide scale awakening to the interconnectedness of all of life. This is not just the proper response to the climate crisis and the coronavirus pandemic; it is also the underlying message found on most spiritual paths and in many religions. 

An old idea suggests that when we can't find our way to the deep truths of life in a positive manner, then the deep truths may surface in more painful ways. I'm not wishing the virus on anyone, not wishing that the virus be present in any form at all. I am saying that the message about the interconnection of all of life is so important at this time on earth that it may reach us in more dangerous and painful ways. 

It’s as if the immune system of the body of humanity has been worn down by all the conflicts and oppression in the world, and been further worn out by intense anxieties and fears being driven by the growing climate emergency, by intensifying political upheavals and by the collapse of protecting institutions. In the midst of all the turmoil the global pandemic painfully shows us through daily counts and troubling charts that we all affect each other; that what happens to one person can actually come to affect and even infect everyone else. At the same time that we must practice “social distancing,” we can also see more clearly how we are all interconnected.  

One of the hardest things for most people to hear are messages coming from our own bodies saying that it is time to stop, to rest, to restore and heal ourselves. When that message can't get through, the body has no choice but to amplify the symptoms or fashion a depression. Of course, the collective body at this time tends to fear anything like a depression or a recession, any kind of downturn. 

Modern societies have become obsessed with the combination of speed and endless expansion. Yet, we are at a collective turning point, at a place where we must stop and listen to the body of humanity, even listen to the voice of the earth. We have to stop despite the fears of the stock market crashing and in spite of the common belief that everything must keep expanding. In many ways, we have already been in a collective descent.  Like a person who refuses to stop until there is no other choice, we reach a point where everything must come to a halt, to protect the health of each person, to treat the body of humanity. 

For many of us the next stretch of uncharted territory now appears as the increasing possibility that we must self-quarantine for our own well-being as well as for the sake of others. We have to isolate ourselves and suffer a certain amount of aloneness, either for protection from the virus or for healing and recovery from it. At another level, we are being invited to stop and turn inward, to descend as in a dark night of the soul, to look within for the light found in dark times.

These are certainly fearful times throughout the world; yet retreating from the world and turning within can stir deep fears as well. An old idea suggests that the two greatest worries are the fear of being overwhelmed by the conditions of the world and the fear of feeling abandoned and left all alone. As the virus spreads we can be fearful of becoming infected and worry that medical systems will simply be overwhelmed. To stop the pandemic we may all need to self-quarantine and just the idea of being alone for a prolonged period can bring up the second great fear of being isolated and feeling abandoned. 

Abandonment is an archetypal condition that is part of being human as each child suffers some sense of being deserted and left all alone. Thus, everyone has abandonment issues and part of each person's ego is shaped to protect from feeling that deep sense of abandonment again. At the same time, life has ways of placing each of us in conditions that cause us to face our fears of isolation and feelings of abandonment. Early in life we are defenseless and easily overwhelmed. Later in life, the issue is not so much who abandoned us and how and why they did it. Later in life, the issue becomes how we avoid abandoning ourselves when faced with fears and uncertainty

There is an important difference between experiencing aloneness and feeling overwhelmingly lonely. An old proverb reminds us that “solitude is only a problem if you don't like being with yourself.”

Many ancient peoples understood that at any moment, day or night, a person could fall out of the world. The body would remain on the face of the earth, but the psyche could slip or fall from the daily world into what people imagined was the underworld. Like the modern idea of the unconscious, the underworld was populated by various beings, some seemingly divine, some possibly demonic. In that old understanding, the underworld was always nearby; it could simply be a fearful place to avoid or else be a mysterious place of awakening, a realm where deeper truths and greater meanings can be found. 

The ancient Greeks had the sense that there were two ways we could descend to the inner-under-world of psyche and soul. We could fall out of life from a sense of loss or depression and find ourselves there. Or, we could consciously choose to descend. The path of intentional descent was called katabasis, meaning a willingness to stop on the road of life and go down. And the reason to enter the darkness below, to take the road that we tread with our eyes closed, was not simply to face our fears. 

The reason for a conscious descent was to stop long enough to suffer the sense of abandonment and loss; then go deeper yet in order to make ourselves more whole, in order to return to life with a deeper connection to both meaning and purpose. For, what we truly seek are moments of wholeness that not only reassure us, but that can also renew and revitalize us, body and soul.

Although the idea of being self-quarantined can feel much like a prison sentence, it can be turned into a meaningful practice of conscious descent in the ancient way. Just as practices of being more conscious of washing our hands and being at the right social distance can serve to protect each other, finding ways to be more whole also has an effect on each other and can have a healing effect on the world. If we do not abandon ourselves, we do not abandon the world. For, what changes the soul can also change the world.