It has been a week since the world learned of the loss of Stephen Boss. Like so many others, the news rocked me. I read tribute after tribute talking about how tWitch was all light.

That's what he did, he brought light with him wherever he went. The kind of light that inspired us to dance, to move, to get out of our heads, and get into our soft animal bodies as Mary Oliver would say.

And so we were shocked at how such a light bearer, such a divine dancer could do the thing Stephen did: choose eternal stillness instead of breath-filled movement. How could someone with so much light get lost in a sea of darkness that made him want to stop swimming to the shore?

I don't pretend to know what Stephen was experiencing in that moment, but what I know for certain, is the idea Tyler Perry touched on when he responded to the news of the loss of Stephen: if you want to bear light in this world, there's a buy in that happens...you buy into the darkness, too.

This is not a popular idea, especially in the world of Christianity, where we are taught, indoctrinated to believe that God, that faith, is all about light. We are taught to move away from the darkness.

But it ain't the full picture. And I think when we get still and quiet within ourselves, when we close our eyes to escape the light, we all know this in our bones.

But if you follow this all consuming, light-chasing, too sanitized thread of Christianity, it will lead you to sources that blind you in goodness, in holiness, in lightness. The sources will tell you that to follow God means always follow the light, these are the sources that are sure to bring life. Darkness is dangerous. Too disorienting.

But what science has taught us is that light is always casting a shadow. Light MUST have a shadow. Darkness has always been a part of the deal of this life. Darkness is always the other side of light. Before there was light, there was darkness, and God called this force good, very good, too.

Christianity and our curated world of light bearing often tells us there's no space for the kind of darkness that can make us want to stop dancing.

But beauty and terror go hand in hand. A constant paradoxical tension inviting us to wrestle with both realities.

Rainer Marie Rilke wrote on this very idea: You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in. Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going, No feeling is final. Don't let yourself lose me.

So many of the response posts to Stephen were to call hotlines if you need help, reach out to friends, check on your strong friends, your light-bearing friends. I read them and they felt well meaning, but also like too easy answers. Too light-infused answers.

When I’ve gotten lost in my own depths, my therapist often tells me to ground myself: say my name out loud, feel my feet on the ground, say my address, my kids’ names, my husband’s name. Remind myself of the tangible life that is in the here and now of this very moment. God is both in the light and in the darkness, she tells me.

My guess is that Stephen gave his life, boldly going into the darkness to bring us all light. A place he surrendered to going into alone. His own soul flame flared up and cast the kind of shadow that caused a sea of people to get up and move with him.

This was holy work Stephen said "yes" to. My own quieted soul tells me he knew the gamble, he knew the cost, and he kept saying “yes” any way.

To those who bring great light into this world and find themselves in a sea of darkness, keep going. Keep exploring, keep plumbing the depths and then come back to us. Come home to us. Keep swimming to that shoreline. If you've gotten lost in the depths, remember there is always a song that will sing you home. Breathe deep, your soft animal body knows its way home. Say your name out loud and sing over your own soul: I belong, both in the light and the dark. God is here.

We need you here, we need both your light and your darkness. We want your whole, embodied self to reflect back to us the full reality of God. Light and dark, good and bad, ordered and disordered; these are all the best parts of you. They reflect the God in you.

To the beautiful Black soul who could make a whole room get up and dance, to the man who's light led others to the light...thank you. You suffered, you labored, you endured a hell of a lot of darkness to bring your light to us. You went bravely into the deepest parts of yourself so that we could know a deeper, freer version of ourselves.

It was a gamble all along you likely willingly said "yes" to. Thank you.

Rest in peace, brother.

Love,

A white girl who can't dance but always felt inclined to get up and move to the beat because of you. You made me feel freer. Your spirit dances on in all of us.

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It has been years since I have posted in this space. I did not expect my first "return" post to be on suicide...but the news of Stephen's death moved my own soul to do the thing I know how to do best: let my fingers dance over this keyboard and get lost to the sound of a beat coming from some deep place far beyond myself. I've missed this place. And if you are reading this, I've missed you, too. Grateful to be back home.