As summer draws to a close, there’s a quiet, almost melancholic shift in the air. The golden days of warmth, laughter, and endless sunlight are slowly fading. With each shorter day, the night seems to creep in earlier, reminding us of the approaching autumn— a season that, like life, is marked by change and the bittersweet passage of time. This seasonal shift often feels like a reminder that darkness is coming, but perhaps it is also a reminder that this darkness carries its own unique gifts.
A marsh at sunset [Alain Audet, Pixabay]
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness,” Mary Oliver poignantly writes. “It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” Just as the days shrink and the shadows grow longer, we find ourselves at a natural turning point—one where darkness is not just an absence of light but a space for renewal. The end of summer marks the beginning of a new cycle, where the quietude of autumn beckons us to reflect, to pause, and to embrace the stillness that accompanies the dimming light.
As autumn arrives, we are often reminded of myths and stories that explore the journey into darkness. The story of Hanukkah speaks to the endurance of light during dark times, where oil that was supposed to last for one night miraculously burned for eight. Similarly, the nativity story of the wise men traveling under a star also takes place in the darkness of night. These stories reflect how even in the darkest of times, light can emerge, offering hope and a path forward.
Spiritual teacher Joan Halifax eloquently notes that, “In the fruitful darkness there is silent medicine.” The dark can be a place of healing, where we find space to listen deeply, to connect with what’s authentic, and to cultivate patience and stillness. As the sun’s brightness wanes and we are enveloped in the slower, more reflective pace of fall, we are given the opportunity to lean into this fruitful darkness, to sit with it, and to discover its hidden treasures. In this silence, we might find what Halifax calls the “gifts of darkness”—those moments of insight and intuition that only arise when the noise of the world falls away.
The Shaker hymn “Simple Gifts” echoes this sentiment, reminding us that simplicity and turning inward can lead us to “the valley of love and delight” (Brackett, 1848). Just as the leaves fall, stripping the trees bare, we too can strip away the excess and return to what is essential. The simplicity of these quiet moments in the darker months allows us to reconnect with what truly matters—whether that’s our relationships, our inner peace, or our own personal journey toward the light.
The Hebrew scriptures offer a similar insight: “I will give you the treasures of darkness, and riches hidden in secret places” (Isaiah 45:3, New International Version). These treasures are not immediately visible—they require time, patience, and trust in the process of transformation. When we emerge from the dark months, we do so renewed, having gathered these hidden riches and having strengthened our ability to find light within ourselves.
But to truly experience the light of joy, we must first embrace the darkness. Autumn, with all its quiet beauty and reflection, allows us to honor the shadows, to acknowledge the uncertainty and unknown that comes with life. Yet, it is precisely in this space of shadow that we find the possibility for grace, for abundance, and ultimately for joy. The darker months remind us that light and dark are not opposing forces but are interdependent. Each carries its own power and significance.
As the summer sun gives way to autumn’s embrace, we are reminded of the stories that tell us of the miraculous return of light: the return of the sun at the winter solstice, the flame that burns against all odds during Hanukkah, and the star that guided the wise men. Each story reflects the human desire for light, hope, and joy even amidst the darkest times. As Greek novelist Nikos Kazantzakis wisely observed, “The real meaning of enlightenment is to gaze with undimmed eyes on all darkness.” This shift from light to dark and back again is a natural part of life, and by embracing it, we find our way toward enlightenment.
In the end, as the cycle continues and light begins to return, may we carry forward the gifts that darkness has offered us. The end of summer and the beginning of autumn is a time to pause, reflect, and prepare for the journey back to light. And when we do emerge into the brightness of a new season, let us remember to share the joy we’ve gathered along the way.
References
- Brackett, J. (1848). Simple Gifts [Hymn]. Shaker Community.
- Halifax, J. (1993). The fruitful darkness: Reconnecting with the body of the eart*. HarperOne.
- Isaiah 45:3, New International Version.
- Kazantzakis, N. (1960). The Saviors of God: Spiritual Exercises. Simon & Schuster.
- Oliver, M. (2014). Felicity. Penguin Press.
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