It may seem strange, but a favorite moment for me at Living in Grace this year was when the lights went out. Not the lights of those of us participating, but the actual lights across Asilomar. That moment when the electricity turned off unexpectedly was absolutely precious as a beautiful demonstration of how our true Light endures regardless.
It was late Saturday afternoon, about a half-hour before dinner. We were awash in a shower of glorious Love and Light during John Morton’s latest and greatest Traveler sharing. As John was mid-sentence with one of the 100 online participants, everything went dark. The lights, speakers, camera, and video screens turned off.
The sun had already set over the Pacific Ocean, so the only light in our cozy wood-beamed training room came from a soft orange glow emanating from embers in the brick fireplace. We sat stunned, waiting and wondering.
While people worried about getting into our rooms, if dinner could be served, and how we would manage in the complete darkness of the rich, thick forest that is Asilomar, I noticed a single light remained on. It came from a 5-point glittery silver star atop a Christmas tree off to the side of the stage. The rest of the tree was dark. How could that star be glowing steadily when there was no power? I smiled, giggling inside. We think we know what’s going on. Really?
Assistants informed us they were in phone contact with the Zoom hosts, so online participants were updated about why they were suddenly bumped out of a most beautiful Traveler sharing.
A soft, sweet harmonic Hu chant began to roll through the room. It didn’t start with a recording. It came from us, and it grew, filling the room with a resonant soothing inner glow. We sang our song of love in praise and power as we waited to hear what our next steps might be.
We learned 33,000 customers in Pacific Grove lost electricity. 33 thousand? 33? Really? I giggled inside some more.
I decided it would be really fun if our room keys didn’t work. Then we could all sleep in the training room. We had plenty of blankets, and lots of folks brought their special “SE Chairs.” Since we had done six days of luscious spiritual exercises and profound partner sharings along with supreme Traveler sharings, the room was overflowing with the sweetest, richest Light ever. It could be the ultimate sleepover — a group night travel on the Soul train surrounded by Living in Grace loving.
Alas, our keys worked. Doors at Asilomar lock magnetically, not electrically. That meant no sleepover. Oh well. So it goes. We could go back to our rooms, rest, have a snack, and sleep, something a bit sparse during a Grace training.
The next blessing was hearing dinner was served and then discovering the glorious full moon in a clear star-filled sky. No one needed a flashlight or cellphone to see their way to the dining room. As I strolled, taking in the thick forest’s silent elegance, I remembered those nights in Girl Scout camp years ago when we had no electricity by choice and found our way by moonlight. Without the noise of urban lighting, the forest’s divine presence provided a welcome, sacred sanctuary. I walked slowly, taking in my oneness with the land and its steady grandeur.
I heard the Pacific Ocean roaring ahead. I could make out white tips atop undulating gray waves. The ocean didn’t need lights to keep moving. It ebbed and flowed on its own inner power. So could we.
At dinner, small Sterno cans under buffet trays gave a soft orange glow to the food line. Surrounded by windows to the forest, the room was a greenish-gray with tiny lights serving as centerpieces. As I made my way to a table, I discovered the centerpieces weren’t candles but small flashlights and cell phones resting in empty water glasses. They provided more than enough romantic lighting for dinner to look and taste delicious. As I shared about my remembrance of Girl Scouts, several folks reminisced about their camping days and how they too loved the blessings of quiet simplicity.
Then the lights came on! People cheered and hooted. Then the lights went off. People sighed and groaned. The lights turned on, and then off, and then on, and then off. We laughed and laughed some more, giggling our way back to the meeting room.
The lights came on steadily about an hour or so later. Disappointed we had to go “back to normal,” I was also glad we could have contributions later with talented singers, musicians, dancers, and comedians. Still, I loved the sweet intimacy of walking in the dark together, holding doors and lights for one another, helping each other go up and downstairs carefully, not knowing how long the darkness might last.
Being familiar with living without electricity due to Miami’s many storms, I know the closeness that comes from adjusting and accommodating to sudden darkness. “Hide and Seek in the Dark” was a popular game when my children were little, even if it meant turning off all the lights voluntarily just so we could laugh and scream in the joy of finding our way to one another through the darkness.
Alas, there was no reason for me to be disappointed! The lights went off again, right in the middle of a Living in Grace round. Although there were a few groans, laughter reigned, especially when instead of the familiar soft MSIA electronic gong to end each round, an assistant pinged a rather tinny brass bowl.
Through that whole round, the lights went off and on, off and on, with no sense of rhythm or predictability. My partner and I would be sharing some incredibly meaningful heartfelt awareness, holding steady with our loving eyes, seeing the Christ in one another, bursting with gratitude, and then the room would go dark. We would sit in silence, waiting. Then the lights came on, we would start sharing again, and mid-sentence got cut off by the darkness. We closed our eyes, tuned inward, holding steadily, patiently, only to be jolted by the lights blaring back on.
Our eyes met again and again, instantly recognizing the light in each other while we had the chance to do so, embracing the glory of the Christ present, not knowing how long our precious view would last. We kept going, as we learn to do at Living in Grace. With so much joy bubbling up, my partner and I laughed until tears rolled down our cheeks. We giggled all the way through our delicious cuddle time, knowing the Traveler is the one laughing in our hearts as our Christed Lights endure to the end.
Terilee, I love the way you write. This article is a marvelous example of the over all feeling of the LIG retreat. I found myself reliving the joy and expansion I experienced. So precious. Thank you for sharing with us.