We all, at some point, face a period of trial so deep and tenacious it can only be called a Dark Night of the Soul. It feels as if life has been fractured by a loss, a failure, or an emotional wound that leaves us in a desolate, dark place. These are not just fleeting moods; they are tremors that shake the very foundations of our experience, where even a seemingly insignificant event can trigger a profound and disorienting crisis.

Often, a Dark Night has a potent symbolic quality, pointing to a deeper layer of emotion and memory that gives the experience its immense weight. With these experiences, we should always be on the lookout for hidden concerns that may not be visible on the surface. When faced with a Dark Night, many people instinctively treat it like a sickness, like clinical depression that must be medicated away. But perhaps the most profound way to engage with it is to discover the specific action, understanding, or transformation it demands from us.

An Initiation, Not an Illness

A Dark Night is better understood as a kind of initiation, a powerful transition moving you from one phase of life to another. You may have many such nights throughout your life, because you are constantly in the process of becoming a more complete and complex person. A simple rule seems to be that a truly deep Dark Night will require an equally extraordinary development in your character and wisdom.

One of the most striking historical examples is Abraham Lincoln. His early life was shadowed by immense loss and loneliness, and his adult life was burdened by a civil war that claimed hundreds of thousands of young lives. He was a famously melancholic man who, despite or perhaps because of his dark night, became an icon of wisdom and steadfast leadership. One theory suggests he escaped his melancholy through his tireless efforts for his country. But another, more compelling possibility is that the very darkness of his life was the fertile soil from which his incredible leadership grew. He once remarked, "I am now the most miserable man living. If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there would not be one cheerful face on the earth." This perspective shifts our understanding entirely. Instead of seeing darkness as an empty void, we can begin to see it as a foundation.

The Ancient Wisdom of Saturn

In the Middle Ages, dark, contemplative moods were considered the work of Saturn. This planetary spirit was seen as cold, distant, and heavy, but it was also revered as a source of profound wisdom and artistic genius. History is filled with creative men and women who wrestled with the dark humor of Saturn. This idea—that a Dark Night can be intrinsically linked to genius and inspiration—can offer us profound comfort and a new perspective today.

When we accept the Saturnian character of our struggles, as Lincoln did, we can imagine it as the root of an engagement with life that gives us meaning and purpose. This doesn't mean the dark spirit will simply vanish. Instead, it can be counterbalanced by unusual creative activity and a depth of engagement with life that makes the burden more than tolerable. Instead of thinking, "I will never be happy or achieve anything," we might reframe it through the lens of this older wisdom: "A Dark Night is a sign of a high calling. My pain is preparing me for my destiny."

This is the path of transformation. We see it in modern figures like Nelson Mandela, who endured 27 years in harsh imprisonment yet never lost his vision or profound sense of dignity. His Dark Night was a literal prison, not just a mood. He teaches us how to navigate such an experience: do not waste time on illusions or false hopes. Accept the reality of it. Maintain your dignity and strength. Keep your vision intact. Let your darkness inform the seriousness and presence you bring to the world.

Navigating the Darkness

As strange as it may sound, within a Dark Night, there is often a temptation to slip into a morbid enjoyment of the pain, to identify completely with the mood. "I am a lonely person. I am depressed." A striking quality in those who navigate their Dark Nights effectively is the absence of this self-defeating behavior. It is vital to live through the Dark Night—to recognize it, notice its qualities, and yield to its influence—without becoming so attached that it dominates your entire identity. You are not a hero meant to slay the darkness, but you do need the strength of heart to endure it and learn from it.

By giving the Dark Night its due, you can also develop a love for life that doesn't contradict the darkness. You can be devoted to your work and your vision for humanity while simultaneously feeling the weight of the world's suffering. The rule is simple: people can hold more than one truth at the same time. You can acknowledge your darkness and still find joy.

Consider the story of a war hero like pilot Arthur Harrison. After a severe injury in the Second World War, he lost both of his legs but, through an unbelievable force of will, was able to return to the cockpit and fly again. His experience demonstrates how a Dark Night can take something vital from you—your mobility, your hope, your voice—and then return it with additional, unforeseen strength. The cure is often hidden within the disease; hints of your future strengths are often found in your present symptoms.

From Personal Collapse to a Deeper Purpose

A Dark Night is often, at its core, the collapse of perceived meaning. Nothing makes sense anymore. This can be triggered by an external catastrophe, like the death of a loved one, or by an internal one, where the meaning you’ve built your life on simply crumbles. This catastrophe, which seems to devalue everything, has actually just collapsed your conceptual framework. It leads to a dark place, but it also creates the possibility of emerging into a transformed state of consciousness.

When you emerge, life will have meaning again, but it will no longer be a fragile, theoretical meaning. Often, people awaken to a deeper sense of purpose, a connection with life that doesn't depend on neat explanations. It is a rebirth. The ego-driven sense of self has died, but in reality, nothing real was lost—only an illusion.

Another crucial strategy is to prevent the Dark Night from becoming too self-centered. Yes, you feel it intimately and in solitude, but it may be more connected to the suffering of the world than to your own personal story. At any given moment, countless beings on this planet are suffering. The planet itself is suffering. If you can connect your pain to this larger reality, you will find the energy to work on it.

Your personal darkness can be transformed into a righteous anger at injustice, and then into a social vision and effective action. Darkness and vision become two parts of one fluid movement. It requires giving up a long-held philosophy of easy pragmatism and, perhaps for the first time, truly feeling the suffering of the world. We see this model of awakening in the story of the Buddha, and one of the key words Jesus uses in his teachings is "wake up." Awakening is an entry into your own Dark Night, but it is also the only way to hear a truly joyful message.

Catharsis and the Power of Your Story

In ancient Greece, Aristotle described catharsis in the context of theater. You emotionally immerse yourself in a story, and through it, you process your own emotions and ideas. Catharsis is the recognition of a painful truth. It stops us in our tracks and knocks us out of our familiar world. To be deprived of the world for a moment is to gain a rare opportunity to discover another way of life. You cannot renew your life without leaving the familiar.

If you can appreciate this cleansing aspect of a Dark Night, you might be less inclined to escape it as quickly as possible. Psychotherapy, at its core, is a process where one person tells a story and another listens. The story gradually helps us piece together the disparate parts of our life experience. The person telling the story, not just the listener, goes through catharsis. Finding the right words for what you are going through gives your experience a form, placing it outside of you where it can be contemplated.

This storytelling can take many forms. Revisit old places. Talk to old acquaintances. Look at an old photograph of yourself as a child. Who was that person full of dreams? What happened to those relationships? Can you read in that youthful smile what is in you now? A photograph can free us from daily worries and place us in an atmosphere of pure wonder. It is here, at this point of reflection, that the renewal of life often occurs.

The search for your life’s story is so important that it is worth any effort. Your story dismantles the rigid structures of your existence and places you back in the cool, flowing river of life. In this process, you may find your innocence again—a key ingredient for a balanced life. This cleansing restores a more immediate, less cynical perception of the world, allowing the flow of life to move freely once more.

References

• St. John of the Cross. (1999). Dark Night of the Soul. (E. Allison Peers, Trans.). Image Books/Doubleday.

  This is the classic spiritual text that originated the term "Dark Night of the Soul." The 16th-century Spanish mystic and poet describes the soul's painful but necessary journey toward union with the divine, framing deep suffering not as a punishment but as a profound purification process. It provides the foundational understanding of this experience as a spiritual trial rather than a psychological disorder.

• Moore, T. (2004). Dark Nights of the Soul: A Guide to Finding Your Way Through Life's Ordeals. Gotham Books.

  Psychotherapist Thomas Moore offers a modern, secular interpretation of the Dark Night concept. He argues against the modern tendency to pathologize and quickly eliminate dark moods, suggesting instead that these periods are essential for the development of character, wisdom, and a meaningful life. The book explores how navigating—rather than avoiding—loss, pain, and emptiness can be deeply transformative. (See especially Part One, "The Darkening," for descriptions of what a dark night entails).

• Hollis, J. (2005). Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life: How to Finally, Really Grow Up. Gotham Books.

  Jungian analyst James Hollis explores the crises and questions that often arise in midlife, which frequently manifest as a Dark Night. He posits that this is when the soul demands we stop living according to external expectations and start living from a place of authentic selfhood. The book is relevant for its focus on how the collapse of one's old life plan (a common feature of a Dark Night) is a summons to a deeper, more meaningful existence. (See Chapter 4, "The Swamplands of the Soul," for a discussion on confronting personal darkness).