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:


Wounded Soul

Keely Varada

Image: Keely Varada

“Another secret of the universe: Sometimes pain was like a storm that came out of nowhere. The clearest summer could end in a downpour. Could end in lightning and thunder.”

Benjamin Alire Sáenz

I had posed a question to NR a few weeks ago asking what topics my readers would like me to discuss, and this post is a product of one of those requests. I had written about Soul Wound’s when I first started writing for DW, but I don’t think I did the topic much justice. Some of you are probably wondering what a Soul Wound is, I think it is important to point out another term, Fragmented Soul. A majority of us are or know someone who is a fragment. I think this is why Americans are so overly medicated with anti-depressants. This is my personal opinion, and it is important to note that none of the claims in this post are backed up by any medical doctor. I am speaking from my experiences with fragments, and my personal account having been one.

A Soul Wound is when an event/experience causes a piece of your Soul to leave in order to survive the trauma. Some examples of such events are accidents, rape, surgeries, a relationship ending, and even a hex from a Witch. The term itself is used mostly among healers, primarily Shaman’s and other Holy people. It was not until fairly recently that the term Soul Wound became popular in modern Christian culture, and you can find articles scattered all over the internet from the Christian perspective.

I was a Fragmented Soul, and what is this you ask? Well, a Fragmented Soul is the end result of a Soul Wound, you are quite literally fragmented. The piece that decided to leave will usually come back on its own free will. Think of this piece as being just as powerful as the whole, therefore, the piece has free will just like the whole.

In some cases a Shaman or Witch will step in and can do a retrieval spell, or healing. Both are tricky to do, and it would take a skilled practitioner to even think about taking on such a task.

The main part of the question asked to me was how do you know if you have a Soul Wound? And, how do you get it back?

There are usually warning signs, I think it is safe to say that 99.9% of people born are whole Soul’s and it takes an event, or trauma to become a fragment. The born fragmented soul is rare, and tortured; I don‘t mean in some poetic, metaphoric way, I mean literally a tortured Soul. At least if the trauma happens in this incarnation you can pinpoint where the trauma took place, in order to trace the steps to a previous incarnation is next to impossible, and can only be done by the individual breaking through at least 12 levels of “consciousness”. The trip back would probably cause more damage than living a life as a fragment.

The telltale signs of a fragmented Soul is depression, addiction, behavioral issues, insomnia and misplaced anger. The subject will be unable to live a fulfilled life, and will feel the need to fill this void until the demon is faced.

I personally had “daddy issues”, sexual abuse in my past, and abandonment issues. It started off as mood swings, which wasn’t really that much of a red flag for me because I was always moody. Hello, Cancer? It escalated in my late teens (18-19) with a slight rebellion, you know, smoking cigarettes, staying out all night, dating men I was not supposed to be dating. Hell, I even moved across the country.

It was not until my mid-twenties that I even began to think about looking within myself, I wanted to blame everyone else except myself. Not that I was to blame for what happened to me, but I didn’t want to face myself, I was being a coward—eventually being a coward is not an option.

Once you face your demons, once you start to get your pieces back (for me I was missing more than one) you don’t have a crutch anymore. You don’t have that card, you know the one I am speaking of, that card you pull when you want pity or sympathy, attention, or when you need an excuse for something: “Yeah, well (insert tragic event here) happened to me! That’s why I am behaving like a raging bitch!” Then you follow this with the ugly cry, and it will literally get you out of any situation, or accusation that you might be facing.



Save your judgements I am not the only one who has done this, I may be one of the few willing to admit aloud, but either way, this is a no judgement zone.

So, how did I get the piece back? Or, how do YOU get your piece back?

Sure, you could totally visit a Shaman and have that person do the work for you, but it won’t be as effective. That being the exact reason that I did not go to someone to get healed. I am not undermining any Shaman’s out there, but I personally think people should do the work themselves, or at least attempt to.

This usually requires meditation, and can be the act of meditation or something as simple as finding time for yourself that is just for you. You must make time for your thoughts, and then silence them.

Once you get to this place, you start to stir the pot, and stir some more. Drudge up everything that has sunk to the bottom, and start grabbing pieces at random.  You have to put the pieces together, adjust them and try again. You have to accept what happened to you, you have to face it, you forgive, and then you move on. The last two are tricky, and take the longest time to follow through with.

Some other forms of therapy that are effective are Reiki, crystal therapy, yoga, binaural beats (I personally hate them) and talk therapy (Counselor, Psychologist, Psychiatrist, even a Social Worker) because sometimes a medical professional needs to be consulted to rule out all possible causes, but also they can help. I know I learned a ton when I was in therapy, and often use the skills acquired to get by in life.

The whole process is not easy, and a lot of people would prefer to walk around with pieces missing than face themselves. I hate the term broken because to me it means something beyond repair, and none of us are beyond repair.

We are all just a bunch of souls trying to find our way through the rabbit hole.

I am going to link you to a few articles, some a little more extreme than others if you wish to further explore this. I think the summary of it all is, you have to face the pain, then heal it.