Darkness is at the heart of Gothic Horror. It is the ruined castles and abbeys, murky crypts and fungoid dungeons, clammy cellars, dank passages and stairwells echoing with howls, groans and tapping fingers, dripping charnel houses and ivy-clad monasteries. The fertile soil from which all mysteries sprout. In ancient walls where stone and ivy intertwine, the soaring towers crumble. The tearing down of the old, the unveiling by the rays of Truth from the Tower, the harbinger of darkness.
It is the secret cabinets, the raging storms. The bleak forests and treacherous marshes. Moonlit garden of apparitions stretches through the ruined halls, where spectral dancers glide in concert to the mistress Moon, queen of reflections and refractions. And deeper below, lie cells that ooze with long-suppressed humours, festering fungal fantasies conjured from piles of man's sublimated sins.
Here The Devil holds subterranean court for his bat-winged congregation, while supplicant souls wail blasphemous psalms. Through the lairs, whispered terrors that drip down stony walls and seep into one's very skull. Stairwells resound with an orchestra of shrieks that curdle the blood and reason in equal measure. Here hangs the Hanged Man amidst the charnel houses.
Only in the darkest shadows true enlightenment awaits, should one's taper of courage illuminate the darkness within. Where we may find our greatest truths. In the shadows the transitions between day and night blur. The Moon obscure the lines between reality from illusion, shrouding the world in its pale glow. The lonely winter nights entrenched with melancholy, a shadow cast over the soul.
Within these landscapes, the inner world harbors dread. Dark psyches mirror the outer gloom, paranoid and unhinged as those forewarned of the Tower's fall. Repressed emotions writhe and fester within, monstrous like Death's knell intimating life's end. As the Sun sinks below the horizon and the seasons change, external and internal forces coalesce into a tableau of horrors, where even illumination offers no solace.
The Night has drawn her darkness close, the mist her spreading shroud. No netherworldly or celestial ray can pierce this pall. It is the veil of the secrets of the High Priestess. A place where our deepest fears and desires manifest, and where the sacred and the profane intertwine.
Disruption, change and revelation of concealed truths.. Themes embodied by the Major Arcana of the Tarot as it guides one's journey through life's trials towards enlightenment. In Gothic tales as in the Tarot, darkness cradles mysteries that, once confronted, bring transformation. Darkness is also linked to the concept of the absurd, as the condition created by impotent minds seeking meaning in a meaningless universe.
Darkness and in its manifold are entrenched in the mystic arts. In Christianity it signifies the Devil's dominion defying the Logos embodied by our staid Hierophant - the forces of order and control, the world of reason, law, and tradition. The forces of chaos and disorder that threaten to overthrow the Logos, the raw, untamed power of nature and the human psyche.
The Kabbalah tells us in understanding darkness we come to comprehend the nature of divinity itself. The place where divinity itself first took shape, in the abyss anteceding all manifestation. And in the mirror of night reflected, we glimpse that which gestated before the first stirrings of creation.
In Hindu scriptures, darkness is aligned with Kal - Time, personified by the final arbiter, Death. Kaali, She who is Black. Persian doctrines liken it to Ahriman's deceits - the Lord of Lies, mirroring the murk of intent veiled by The Moon. In Islam, darkness is associated with both good and evil. It is a time for contemplation and prayer, but also a time when the Devil's temptation is strong. It is a time for rest and renewal, but it is also a time when secrets are revealed.
Darkness is the shadow realm of man, the receptacle of all things dreaded and disowned by consciousness. In Jungian psychoanalysis it is described as the repository of emotions that civilized and enlightened society shuns. The baser instincts, lack of clarity and order, the pervasive sense of fear and the fate of unrelieved sorrow. Surfacing in monstrous forms akin to those tempting from The Devil's hidden recesses. Fettered energies struggling for expression incubated, analogous to the chaotic forces drawn to light by the Tower's collapse.
The more hermetically such dark abysses are confined, the more potently their pressures proliferate - as if our encircling World resists. The darkness is a natural part of the order, and thus can never be completely suppressed. Try as we may, the pressure will build until it inevitably erupts. Like for Dr. Jekyll, Hyde was not denied. Though often dismissed as regressive, darkness cradles untapped potential, like the life-granting powers of the Empress when acknowledged on her terms.
Even where logic reigns and knowledge holds court, darker doctrines may dwell. It is illuminated ignorance. In the moonlit realm of the unconscious, phantasmagoric philosophies dance the primal passions - intuition and imagination, wisdom that is beyond the reach of the rigid mind. Away from rationality's pale reign and the frigid formulas of primer learning. Only for those souls who seek knowledge beneath Luna's mute tutelage.
The Tarot acts as a map for the soul's pilgrimage, teaching that both shadows and light are requisite for our evolution. In dusk's depths, we confront inner adversities and face phantoms of the psyche. Yet it is also amid murk that we uncover buried blessings and glean gnosis. Often maligned, even the Devil harbors occult omniscience for the initiate to decode.
It signifies our shadow's seething forces - those energies denied and disowned, yet key to wholeness should we embrace the shadow selves. The Magician wields potentials latent, yet to unleash arcane arts demands darkness's dominion be braved. Only after navigating night's realms does the Magician gain mastery, weaving incantations from lessons learned in the absence of light to envision his World.
The Sun is life's raptures in fullness of sparkling symphony of rays, but its radiance resonates more deeply for those who have known the pall of night. Solely through shadows traversed does one feel sunlight's true splendors. After peering into night's nadir is one duly appreciative of its donation to the gift of dawn. Thus the Kabbalist's Tarot cautions dual dependence - on gleam and gloom alike do we rely for fulfillment. Only by interfacing night and noon are we made perfect, having plundered boons in each realm along our journey for the truth.
Mystery and misstep alike draw us into darkness' depths. The Fool signifies our first footfalls into ignorance's abyss, launched by innocence and inquisitiveness into Life's unlit vale. Upright, this card depicts wonder's wide-eyed advent into realms unseen. But inversed, it bears foreboding - a prophet of perils when naivete runs naked, unshielded by sagacity. Reckless curiosity can lead the unwary overcliff to calamity. For folly and fanciful whimsy propel our initiations into obscurity, where formative trials temper spirit in night's forge.
There lies hubris in The Tower when pride bids its hero ignore the signs, too proud to heed their portents of limits nearing. Likewise does curious transgression tempt Faustian accords, motivating mortals to monger the Magician's occult arts whilst merrily mortgaging their mortal souls to damnation.
Of Bluebeard's bride who from innocent curiosity dared glimpse that is forbidden. Of Faust's hunger for knowledge. Mirroring humanity's willingness to brazen boundaries and learn life's dark lessons through disobedience. In defiance to the hidden truths we bind ourselves to the baleful arcane. Plunging into darkness, courting ruination by wayward rebellion. In the stygian realm might we attain fruit if our spirit proves stern enough to withstand night's scouring.
Our descent into darkness mirrors innately our psyche's desire to transcend the mundane. As Poe wrote, there is an abnormal allure to death and the forbidden. Through our spirit of contumacy we linger at Death's edge on the threshold of Libra's scales lured as moths to flames.
Delving into the deep, we behold the Abyss occluded from Judgement's eyes, our vision blurring yet remaining rapt as those who don Death's cloak to the liminal realms. We are, drawn to the chasms that lie beyond the boundaries of our understanding despite the danger that lurks there. There the psyche shreds the last vestments of orthodoxy to wander like a wraith upon dusk's dreamscape.
The Tarot chronicles humanity's pilgrimage into the shadows, understanding of the meaning of life. The Moon reveals the fantasies, illusion's root in untamed passions, while The Star sustains hope amidst harrowing horrors. Though terror lurks where Devil holds dominion, with The Hermit's lantern one may traverse the night, whole. Cultivating gnosis by grappling with the ghouls that inhabit this inner abyss.
While curiosity and folly may prompt our descent, darkness holds promise of rebirth for those with eyes to see. Within ruin's ashes lies the seed of transformation, should we cultivate receptive hearts to receive life's mysteries quietly unveiled in shadow's shroud. For where there is destruction, a dawn may also rise - if we lend ears to night's whispers and glean the gleams of intuition from the depths.
Veils lift to reveal truths hidden from the vulgar. Under the light of the Moon pride is cast aside, and wisdom wells up in watchfulness over worldly ways. Seeing clearly that which glances askance under the ken of common. Her brilliance burns within black bough and barren battlement, for those cultivating clairvoyant hearts to hold heaven's light against enveloping dark. Hers is the hand that guides our faltering steps, kindling our consciousness to commune with the dark.