The Mossy Compass

Norman Spiker, the scoutmaster of my Boy Scout troop in

So often we reject or deny the usefulness of our shadow side.  We’d rather not even acknowledge our anger, pain, frustration, disappointment.  We don’t want to identify with our bad attitudes and potentially destructive inner tendencies.  Yet it is the shadow side that can guide us when we are lost.  The dark side of our lives can show us the way to go, show us the change of course that will take us in a better direction.  If I can step back and lovingly observe my anger, I can let it direct me to its source, and resolve it.  If I can step back and lovingly observe my pain, if I can calm down enough to let it inform me of its causes and the needs to which it can direct me, there is some chance I can find my way to relief.  Pain is a perfect compass, if I can take the time to watch where its needle aims.

So it is with Christmas.  At the darkest time of the year, when outer lights as well as inner lights are dimmest, we are best able to see the glimmer of the star that leads us to Bethlehem.  If we are able to embrace darkness itself, it can guide us to the wonder that awaits us in the manger.

So if you find yourself stumbling in circles, remember the lesson of Norman Spiker.  Look for the dark side, and let it lead you out of the woods, and into the presence of the Holy One.  Amen, and Merry Christmas!

Columbiana, Ohio, taught me many useful and enduring lessons about nature.  One comes back to me at this time of year. 

Norman would take us on winter hikes in the snow, and on one of them he taught us that if we ever got lost, we should look for lichen on a tree.  The side of the tree with lichen or moss on it faced north, because the north side of the tree got the least sun, allowing the lichen to flourish in the damp of the dark. Now this isn't always so -- there are plenty of trees with moss or lichen all around them, so you can't always count on it.  But in my experience, lichen on trees does provide some help in getting oriented.  This wisdom was much more useful in the flatlands of the Midwest than it is here in California, where we can reckon our location by mountaintops.  But I still smile when I look out my office window and see the moss on the cement wall in front of the neighboring buildings facing the church – moss that faces north, just as Norman told us.  As I write, the autumnal leaves of a Japanese maple glow in the sun behind that wall, while the moss grows in shadow.