Dark Night of the Soul: The Story of How I Died

Luciia Motto

Image: Luciia Motta

“If we never experience the chill of a dark winter, it is very unlikely that we will ever cherish the warmth of a bright summer’s day. Nothing stimulates our appetite for the simple joys of life more than the starvation caused by sadness or desperation. In order to complete our amazing life journey successfully, it is vital that we turn each and every dark tear into a pearl of wisdom, and find the blessing in every curse.”

Anthon St. Maarten

I am going to bare my soul in ways that I have not done in quite some time and also speak on a topic that not many Seekers talk about. I am not sure if there is a stigma attached, or if it is fear based but I know it is avoided in discussion; I refer to the Dark Night of the soul.

The name alone conjures imagery in the mind that cannot summarize the pain, agony and torture one must go through.

For those of you unfamiliar with the term it first came to popularity after a 16th century poem was written by a Spanish Roman Catholic mystic named Saint John of the Cross. First being primarily used among the Church, the term began to gain popularity in Esoteric circles around the 17th and 18th centuries, and became even more popular at the peak of Jung’s career, and his idea of duality and that darkness can be made conscious, if it is not already.

The main idea is that Seekers, when being prepared to raise their level of consciousness must be stripped away of everything we hold dear, we must shed our skin— we must die.

Some Seekers will experience many Dark Night’s, others will experience one horrendous Night that will lead to ascension after being drudged through the pits of the Void in their Soul.

I guess one could compare it to depression, although if you have ever experienced a Dark Night, I mean REALLY experienced it, you know that it makes depression look like a walk in the park, picking daisies.

This most recent Full Moon was in Taurus, the Bull, which happens to be my Moon. As most of you know I do not handle Full Moon’s well, this one happened to be close to Samhain *AND* in my sign; I knew it was going to be a rough ride, or I thought I did, then I allowed confidence, and perhaps cockiness to blind me from the plummet into darkness that was on the horizon. This same confidence also blinded me from realizing that there was true absence of light, lack of joy, and happiness in my life for months if not years, which is what the Dark Night is.

Again, I am not talking depression here, or any of my usual descents into the abyss; I am talking actual primordial darkness, and death. I died that night, I’m sure of it, and a piece of me is still lost somewhere in the abyss.

Days leading up to the moon were not overly emotional or distressed like usual which is where the cockiness was coming from, I should have known better, I have been doing this too long not to know the poisons of ego.

The rage, however, was very, very present.

Moloch began entering my dreams, poetic I thought since it was a Taurus moon. He told me that I would need to “embrace my true nature, and show no mercy”. He is a strong force, and one that I have to be prepared for because it leaves a residual energy on my Soul, and aura if I am not properly anchored, and shielded; I was neither of those when he started making his visits.

To be honest I have not been anchored in some time, shielded, yes, anchored, no. The main rule of dealing with my power (for lack of a better term) is that I must remain anchored to a human, not a hybrid, not a celestial, but a human. If I do not have a human who can ground me to this place (charge, student, friend, lover, family member) then I have to actively, every day, anchor myself to the Earth, or I will lose myself and my Beast will take over. I will become a monster that none of us want to meet.

The last few weeks have been my monster and I battling. I was lost in spurts of creative energy, and was back on my routine, and thought I was making really good progress but I could feel the darkness looming, I could feel it peering from every direction. I was being hunted and I could feel it, something a predator like myself is not used to. Even talking about it now brings an uncomfortable tightness in my chest, and my heart begins to race.

Sunday morning, I woke up with this thick darkness all around me, it was on both the physical and ethereal part of my being, and there was nothing I could do to stop it from taking over my mind.

I fought it, I fought it until Monday night when I could no longer keep in the emotions, and so I let one tear drop from my eye, and then it was a sudden release and purge from the depths within. The thoughts were some of the most intense visions, and ideations I have ever had. The tears were heavy, and hot, my body was jerking and shaking from the release of the pent up pain.

I was put in many trances during my dance with darkness, I had locked myself in my bedroom for my own safety, but also the safety of others. I was not suicidal or homicidal, just didn’t want to scare anyone. It seemed the more I cried, the clearer my vision became, and the more intense the trances were.

The most vivid trance was myself being guided down a “hallway” and all around me were swirls of a gray matter, I could hear screams of torture, and I mean skin shuddering, gut wrenching, screams of death, and they were deafening.

Surrounding me, guiding my way, were 3 cloaked beings; one wearing red, one wearing yellow, and one wearing black. There were symbols on their cloaks that were Masonic in origin, and that is all I will say. When I was caught looking at the symbols the yellow robed “man” would turn and his scaly skinned face, and piercing green eyes would “tell me” to keep my head down.

I don’t follow orders well, nor do I bow and I don’t like being taken places against my will but my curiosity trumped my rebellious nature, and I did what I was told.

I was brought into a room, it was a rounded room (not the typical 4 square walls) with gold glyphs shimmering all around. In the center was a clay formation that looked like a pedestal, and before it was a purple silk pillow, they told me to go before the book and kneel. As I did so the three of them surrounded me, and in some language that can only be described as Aramaic, they cloaked me in a blue colored, triangular shaped energy shield.

The one in yellow demanded I not leave this place until I learned what I needed to know.

As I opened the pages of this book there were no words, but a looking glass. I was able to put my hand inside the swirling waters and pull out images, situations, events in history and watch them unfold. I was reveling in this idea of being able to see pieces of history live in action. Then I started to see my own deaths, and the deaths of my family. I saw despair, pain, and desperation on the worldwide scale, too.

I was being shown my fears, but also the collective’s fears, and current woes.

Each time I would see my death, the death of a loved one, or the death of an innocent, it would take a piece of me, and bring me closer to death myself. It got to the point where I could feel death standing behind me. At one point I wanted to die, I wanted to take away that pain, and as the yellow cloaked “man” handed me a blade and told me to end it all, I stood up in defiance, and said I would “go out on my terms, but not by my own hand”.

After what I believed to be hours being trapped inside this energy force field, a smoke started to surround me, incense or herbs being burned. It induced an erotic state, but one that made me an open portal, so open that I could not control a single thing. I was speaking languages I clearly do not know in real life, and everything I said was being recorded on a clay tablet.

As I started to slip from the trance and come back to my physical state of being, I immediately knew that I was not who I was when I left. I also knew that a piece of me was, and still is, lost. Perhaps it was a necessary loss but the void I am feeling is making me numb to the outside world, only wanting contact with one chosen person.

I know that change and transformation are the name of the game these days, but I am terrified. I am a creature of habit, and when my hand is forced, I will become more rebellious. It seems the other side is growing increasingly intolerant of my rebellion.

The signs are so overwhelming, and so intense that my friends and family are beginning to be dragged into the game, and I know without a doubt that I am being stripped of everything, literally this time, so that I may be born anew. I have even received strange, cryptic messages via email and fb, even phone calls from sequenced numbers to my landline (home phone).

I have walked the edge for too long, and now it is time to jump, there is no logic, there is no rhyme or reason, there is nothing but instinct, and a knowing that I will fly before I will allow myself to fall. I feel like I am on the brink of greatness, but also stuck in the Twilight Zone.

The best thing to come out of this is that now I know what it is to die, and what I have to lose, so now I know how much I need to live; the Dark Night is a perfect teacher for such lessons.

The original poem:


To read more about the Dark Night of the Soul:


Coping tips:


About the Author

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Jaclyn Cherie is an Author, Word Alchemist, Witch, Seer, Luciferian, Intersectional Feminist, Animist and Torchbearer with her roots planted in New York, and her mind in other worlds. © Jaclyn Cherie, Creatrix of The Nephilim Rising™ (2014-2019)


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