I don’t dream of Gideon at all. In fact, he’s like a stranger to me. I don’t think I ever truly knew him, and I probably married a persona of his, not the real him. But somehow, even though I haven’t spent any time at all with Marianne, she triggers me so much. If I were to be honest, I see a lot of myself in her. I see a lot of her in me, too. Maybe this is what the dark night is about. The people who carry the most difficult lessons for us are the ones who reflect back to us, parts of ourselves that are harder to accept.

She loves very fiercely. And it’s the way she treats herself as well. She’s got a conscience that pricks, but at least she’s got a conscience. I don’t even think Gideon has any remorse for what he’s done to us both. Instead of choosing to believe me, she has placed all her faith in Gideon’s lies, who apparently told her, “I never said such things about you.”

Marianne, why would the same person who lied to you tell you the truth when being confronted? And telling the judge he is willing to testify he didn’t say those things is so hilarious. I wish I recorded the conversations Gideon and I had about her, so she could believe that the man she married is not who he says he is. But alas, maybe this is her journey to walk. Perhaps this is also her dark night to go through.

Ironically, because of Gideon, she was obsessively following my blog, dissecting my words and making her own interpretations of what I say. What she thinks of my intents really just reflect her own. She thinks I’m out to harm her, but really, it reflects her own heart. If she can make such interpretations from me speaking my own truth, then no one else but her, can really take the depression and the anxiety away. Her darkness stirs within her, and she’s fighting the fear from within.

The Spirit teaches that we are all fragments of God, of the universe, and although we think we are separate beings, we are only in separate vessels in this life. When we die, our souls go back to experience pure source, or pure love.

And experiencing the darkness, for me, has been a chance to enter the Feminine realm of not knowing, just being. In the womb that is dark, we grow, not understanding why we need legs, hands, eyes, or ears.

Darkness is the realm where we moult, where we release all that doesn’t serve us anymore, like a caterpillar disintegrating so it become a butterfly.

Evolution is painful. It’s bitter, messy, and confusing. But this pain ultimately leads us to more compassion, to give us a different perspective of the events that have unfolded in our lives. The true reward of darkness is that it helps us truly forgive. The true goal of this darkness is for us to love all aspects of this human experience.

Can we, when being tested, choose to love instead of hate? Can we, when being asked, forgive a rapist or a murderer instead of demand for their death? Can we, after all of the mayhem in our lives, look ourselves in the mirror and say, “I love you. I forgive you. I am all that I am.”?

And so we can not avoid the darkness. It might seem like a repetitive lesson. And when the darkness calls, it might seem like you’re not healing. But you are. You’ll feel it when you’ve broken out of the loop. You may not know how many loops you have to break in this lifetime. But every time you break, you expand in consciousness. And every time we expand, we get a bit closer to our evolution.