Dark Night of the Soul

The Dark Night of the Soul. A moment were our concept of reality, our patterns of daily life, our mere existence on the planet are in question. This internal mindstorm can arise from major life events, personal loss, or sudden realizations about one's mortality, identity, or place in the universe.

People experiencing this type of existential crisis may grapple with questions like:

• "What is the point of existence?"

• "Do my actions truly matter?"

• "Who am I beyond my roles and responsibilities?"

There is pain in this moment. It’s not quite depression, though it can feel similar. It’s deeper. More existential as the ego starts to crumble—when identity no longer fits, and the soul, exhausted by masks and self inflicted suffering, comes to our attention.

The Dark Night of the Soul is not a metaphor for despair—it is a stage of inner transformation. A shedding.

1. Loss of Familiar Identity – You may feel disconnected from past versions of yourself, questioning beliefs and roles that once defined you.

2. Letting Go of Control – Resistance to change often deepens suffering. Learning to surrender allows for new perspectives to emerge.

3. Facing the Void – A feeling of emptiness, as if life has lost its meaning. This is where impermanence and equanimity become essential.

4. Dismantling Old Beliefs – What once felt certain may now feel fragile or false. This phase challenges deep-rooted assumptions about reality.

5. Spiritual Expansion – The crisis ultimately brings transformation, often leading to a renewed sense of self, purpose, and wisdom.

   
   

What Are We Letting Go Of?

• Ego attachments—the need to control, define, or cling to identity

• Outdated belief systems—perspectives that limit growth and understanding

• Fear of the unknown—embracing life’s uncertainty with trust

• Past conditioning—letting go of inherited narratives that no longer serve

How to Best Describe the Process

This journey is like walking through a dense fog—at first, it’s disorienting and isolating, but as you move forward, clarity begins to emerge. It’s a death and rebirth, where the old self dissolves to make way for something deeper, more authentic. There is pain in the surrender, but also transformation.

From Rumi, the 13th-century Sufi mystic:

"Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead, let life live through you. And do not worry that your life is turning upside down. How do you know that the side you are used to is better than the one to come?"

This speaks beautifully to the process of inner transformation—the surrender to uncertainty, trusting that what feels like loss may actually be the doorway to something greater.

A Teaching Beneath the Ashes

In Buddhist terms, this unraveling is part of waking up. It's a confrontation with dukkha—the suffering that arises not from pain itself, but from the mental reactivity we bring to it: clinging, judging, resisting.

Pain is inevitable. But suffering—dukkha—is often optional. That’s not something I wanted to hear at first. But over time, it became a lifeline.

The teaching that helped stabilize me was a single Pali word: upekkhā—equanimity.

Equanimity is not numbness. It’s not apathy. It’s the steady presence that allows us to feel deeply, without being overwhelmed.

It teaches us that we can face grief, anger, and loss with awareness—and not be undone by them.

The Space Between

There is always a moment—however brief—between what we experience and how we respond. That tiny space is where equanimity lives.

It’s a doorway.

For me, equanimity meant learning to sit with discomfort rather than rushing to escape it. To be present with sorrow or fear, without reaching for distraction or control. To simply say:

This is here now. Let me see it clearly.

It’s not easy. But it is simple.

And in that space, something new began to grow—not clarity, not resolution—but a quiet kind of trust.

At first, I wondered: Is this surrender? Is it resignation? But words don’t quite fit.

What I experienced was a shift in consciousness—toward stillness, toward witnessing, toward a deeper awareness of what is—without needing to name it “good” or “bad.”

Not the End. The Threshold.

The Dark Night of the Soul is not a detour. It’s not failure. It’s a threshold.

It strips away everything false so that something true can finally emerge.

Not the self we perform for others.Not the self propped up by approval, productivity, or sound.But the self that has always been quietly waiting underneath.

And as the ego dies, light begins to seep in—not always bright, not always comforting—but real. Authentic. Enduring.

My Doubting Mind

Sometimes I wonder: Did the loss of sound awaken something in me? Would this spiritual opening have happened without the pain?

It’s a question I can’t fully answer.

But I’ve found strength in Buddhist teachings. Strength in seeing my pain not as punishment, but as a portal. As a teacher. And through that lens, my journey of loss has triggered something I can only call an awakening—for lack of a better word.

If You're in the Dark Night

If you're in this place now, please know:

You’re not lost. You’re not broken. You’re in between.

Take the time to feel the pain—so that you can release the suffering.Don’t cling to it. Don’t resist it.

Just stay present.Hold steady.Be kind to yourself.

And let the darkness do its work.

Sometimes we don’t need light right away.

Sometimes, the path forward begins when we learn to trust the night.

I should write a song about this. :-)

Here is an interesting video on the topic: https://youtu.be/1SpcbF57A2w?si=hZecUA2DZT7A_Zrj