I have been intrigued by darkness for a long time. Seems light Christianity gives it such a bad rap. W better to walk in the light and all that. I do like those images and I want to think of befriending darkness too. It’s the dichotomy right? I don’t know light if I don’t know dark. We begin in the darkness of the womb for starters. Singing in the dark makes me think of courage. It is also a sense of hope. The light will come. I’m late coming to Barbara Taylor Brown’s book Learning to Walk in the Dark. Just finishing it and plan to start over and read it again. So many tidbits in this book.
One question Carrie. Can you tell us some thing about the video for the song and who did it? I found it quite moving.
Hi Lisa, I loved Barbara’s Learning to Walk in The Dark. There is a passage in it when she described the phases of the moon, and how it is only after the darkness at the end of the phase (or beginning depending upon how you think of it) that the light returns. It inspired the song “Help in Hard Times”. Yes, shadow and light are intimately connected. It is not easy to be in the dark phase of the moon, it is easier to lose your way, feel isolated or lonely. I agree, in some christian community the focus is on light, joy and there is almost a shame attached to being in the dark phase of the moon, grief or struggle. I’ve experienced communities where there’s an under current that If you are in a state of joy you must not be right with god - and doing something wrong. It’s a terrible and often lonely weight to lay on people. How important it is to hold one another in our times of joy and sorrow, to be tender with one another through the struggles we all must occasionally face if we are human. The Great Luminous never said, “follow me and always be happy” but rather love one another, love yourself, welcome the stranger, the weary and heavy burdened, lift up the oppressed. In the 23rd psalm there is a line that has always moved me….”lo though I walk through the valley of the shadow, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Anyway…..Oh the video question….I create most of my official lyric videos. I have a degree in visual art, and images and imagery has always fascinated me. Thanks for asking :-)
After his first visit to the Abbey of Gethsemani and after experiencing the prayer life there, Thomas Merton wrote, "Now I know what has been holding the world together and keeping it from cracking into pieces." He was referring to the constant rhythm of prayer the monks observe. Every time I go to Gethsemani I feel gratitude that in this small corner of the world, a group of people are praying in the middle of the night, in the middle of the morning, in the middle of the day, for our wounded and fragile world. With so much tragedy, death and destruction afflicting so many in the world today, I have also been thinking about what Merton said about engaging in the cosmic dance. If we seek joy in the darkness, joy will find us. And if we sing in the darkness, others will join us. Thank you Carrie for this reflection and for coming to the abbey. It was an unforgettable weekend for those of us who were there with you.
Thank you for sharing the thoughts behind this song. It's one my favorites from the new album and I have long admired the songs of John McCutcheon. When I first heard it I was reminded of evening gatherings at the Michigan State campus ministry- 20-25 people in an upper room, my guitar and a few candles. It was around 1970 (Viet Nam; regular protests on campus; personal and spiritual discoveries being made). We found great refuge and renewal- praying, sitting quietly and singing in the dark.
This beautiful song brings the connection between my Social Activism and Spirituality more in focus. As the monks sing intentionally for others in the dark, so do I work actively with many to help the suffering of humanity around the world. Our actions and voices become one.
Growing up on a cherry farm, early dark mornings have always been a part of me. In recent years, I have built a practice of sitting on the porch steps after the morning run, singing the Lord’s Prayer quietly, but clearly, feeling the meaning of each line, each petition, not reflecting on its controversial texts and translations but on the more meaningful intentions behind it. I have always believed this makes a difference bigger than I, as your text invokes ... may it be so!
I am a grandmother with a new , beautiful granddaughter. I am graced to spend these early weeks with my daughter, now a mom. Singing in the night. So many mothers singing lullabies in the night.
I’m currently reading the latest book by James Finley, The Healing Path: A memoir and an invitation. James was a young novice (directly out of high school) under Thomas Merton at the Abbey of Gethsemani. Singing in the Dark is in my mind as I read. Both are just what my heart and soul need right now. I’m staying with my youngest sister after her surgery, as we wait for pathology results later this coming week.
Having had the luck to born with a voice that reminds me of the sound made when emptying a gravel truck, singing was never my long suit. But, I am a self taught piano player and I'm good enough to impress my close friends. Also, I am lucky enough to have married late in life and someone who did not want a ring for an engagement gift, but instead wanted a grand piano. (I think the two were related.) As older adults, we created no children but made a beautiful home and family for ourselves and the dog.
One night I was having trouble sleeping. I rolled and tossed for what seemed like hours. For some reason, I got up, went downstairs and found myself sitting at the piano. I put the top down, so as to be as quiet as I could. I stood on the soft pedal to add as much more quiet as possible, and I barely touched the keys. But, I did sit there, all alone, and played the piano in the pitch darkness. It felt so good that I remember also closing my eyes to add more darkness, but still I could play.
Suddenly I became aware of my bride sitting next to me on the bench. We never spoke. She put her arm around my shoulder and I went back to playing, still as quietly as possible. The dog came and crawled up in her lap in a not-so-little ball. And, there we were ... the three of us ... in the middle of the night...sitting at the piano ... in total quiet ... not a word spoken ... hearing "Polka Dots and Moonbeams" and "Green Dolphin Street" and "Misty" ... falling in love all over again ... sharing our souls singing in the dark.
That was 1986. She and the dog are both long gone now and have retained very little of my hearing. So is that beautiful house and the piano both a memory. But, it seems like yesterday we had our moment. I still find times when I have great difficulty going to sleep, even though I am well into my 80s and alone now. I wonder ... do you suppose I still have my Erroll Garner CDs?
Thank you so much for the reminder ... some of us are the fortunate ones who have our own personal Singing in the Dark moments over which we can shed a loving tear ... Thank You.
Dearest John, I am on the windy coast of Maine, singing in a Congregational church with a 250 year old tree on its doorstep. I took a moment before sound check to read a few of the comments today. Your words and story have me wiping grateful tears from my eyes. Thank you for sharing this beautiful, story. I will carry it with me as a treasure. A deep bow. Thank you my friend.
As it happens, I also played trumpet most of my life up to age about age 50. In the early days, as a young soldier, I played in a Dixieland Band at the Officer's Club at Fr. Devans, MA. Occasionally we would "go out on tour", and in a weeks time play 8 or 10 places all over Maine and New Hampshire. I especially remember one in particular at what was then Rivier College, in Nashua, NH. and another great night in Kennebunk, ME. I remember that territory and the ice blowing in the wind as well.
I also am very grateful that I found you and all of your efforts. I am sad that I missed your program in Bloomington, but I will not miss the next one. Good luck, break a leg and big hugs for you from me ... John
For me, the darkness of current events seems heavier because I have a lot of family in Israel, some serving in the army. My feelings about the situation in the physical world frequently do not line up with my Spiritual beliefs. So I sing in the dark by meditating on the only truths I hold near and dear- Peace , Light, and Loving for all! Namaste!
I just recently discovered your music. The lyrics and sound you have put together touch my soul and deepen my prayer life. Music opens a connection to the heart, for me, that nothing else can reach. Thank you.
My singing in the dark isn’t in the physical darkness but in the darkness that seems to often deep into my heart, soul, being this time of year with the shortening of day light. My singing is looking for present moment joys, the sun rising behind the brown and golden leaves, the meow of the cat, the greeting from my husband, the encouragement of a friend by text. Knowing there are people sending out song and love in the darkness of hours is comforting especially when so many things are so hard in our world today. Thanks to you and John for your song
This is a beautiful song, and in your story, Brother Lawrence words send a shudder down the spine: "There is always someone singing in the dark at that vulnerable time of the night - for you, for me, for anyone awake or might need help at that hour."
What does "singing in the dark" mean to me? First of all, it resonates with me a lot, as I have been an early bird all my life.
"Singing in the dark" may be an activity that is physically silent, but which, as the songs do, makes other people's lives better. It may be doing tiny and quiet household chores early in the morning, before the work starts. It may be a baker working in the night so that a grocery opens with fresh bread on its shelves. A tired nurse or doctor may sing quietly at the end of their night shift, to keep themselves awake, attentive and motivated. Many people "sing in the dark" so that we can wake up and thrive. A good act of reciprocity is to find my own "night song": something I do before dawn for others.
(I replied with the same words to the Song Lab post "Singing in the Dark", but then I wrote it many days after the post had been published. I hope not to bore the readers by repeating the reply here)
Singing in the Dark has become a favorite since I received your new album... thank you, and thank John, for writing such a lovely, grounding piece of music in these troubled times. It's the melody I hear in my head as I move through the day, and sometimes when I'm awake at 3 am.
I played this early am in darkness. How gorgeous and inspiring! This should be everyone’s wake up song!
I have been intrigued by darkness for a long time. Seems light Christianity gives it such a bad rap. W better to walk in the light and all that. I do like those images and I want to think of befriending darkness too. It’s the dichotomy right? I don’t know light if I don’t know dark. We begin in the darkness of the womb for starters. Singing in the dark makes me think of courage. It is also a sense of hope. The light will come. I’m late coming to Barbara Taylor Brown’s book Learning to Walk in the Dark. Just finishing it and plan to start over and read it again. So many tidbits in this book.
One question Carrie. Can you tell us some thing about the video for the song and who did it? I found it quite moving.
Hi Lisa, I loved Barbara’s Learning to Walk in The Dark. There is a passage in it when she described the phases of the moon, and how it is only after the darkness at the end of the phase (or beginning depending upon how you think of it) that the light returns. It inspired the song “Help in Hard Times”. Yes, shadow and light are intimately connected. It is not easy to be in the dark phase of the moon, it is easier to lose your way, feel isolated or lonely. I agree, in some christian community the focus is on light, joy and there is almost a shame attached to being in the dark phase of the moon, grief or struggle. I’ve experienced communities where there’s an under current that If you are in a state of joy you must not be right with god - and doing something wrong. It’s a terrible and often lonely weight to lay on people. How important it is to hold one another in our times of joy and sorrow, to be tender with one another through the struggles we all must occasionally face if we are human. The Great Luminous never said, “follow me and always be happy” but rather love one another, love yourself, welcome the stranger, the weary and heavy burdened, lift up the oppressed. In the 23rd psalm there is a line that has always moved me….”lo though I walk through the valley of the shadow, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Anyway…..Oh the video question….I create most of my official lyric videos. I have a degree in visual art, and images and imagery has always fascinated me. Thanks for asking :-)
The video is awesome! Thanks for your reply
After his first visit to the Abbey of Gethsemani and after experiencing the prayer life there, Thomas Merton wrote, "Now I know what has been holding the world together and keeping it from cracking into pieces." He was referring to the constant rhythm of prayer the monks observe. Every time I go to Gethsemani I feel gratitude that in this small corner of the world, a group of people are praying in the middle of the night, in the middle of the morning, in the middle of the day, for our wounded and fragile world. With so much tragedy, death and destruction afflicting so many in the world today, I have also been thinking about what Merton said about engaging in the cosmic dance. If we seek joy in the darkness, joy will find us. And if we sing in the darkness, others will join us. Thank you Carrie for this reflection and for coming to the abbey. It was an unforgettable weekend for those of us who were there with you.
Thank you for sharing the thoughts behind this song. It's one my favorites from the new album and I have long admired the songs of John McCutcheon. When I first heard it I was reminded of evening gatherings at the Michigan State campus ministry- 20-25 people in an upper room, my guitar and a few candles. It was around 1970 (Viet Nam; regular protests on campus; personal and spiritual discoveries being made). We found great refuge and renewal- praying, sitting quietly and singing in the dark.
I don’t think there is someone singing in the dark for me.
Currie, the monks sing in the dark for each of us, including you. Others, unofficial as they may be, do as well. Peace and light to you!
This beautiful song brings the connection between my Social Activism and Spirituality more in focus. As the monks sing intentionally for others in the dark, so do I work actively with many to help the suffering of humanity around the world. Our actions and voices become one.
Growing up on a cherry farm, early dark mornings have always been a part of me. In recent years, I have built a practice of sitting on the porch steps after the morning run, singing the Lord’s Prayer quietly, but clearly, feeling the meaning of each line, each petition, not reflecting on its controversial texts and translations but on the more meaningful intentions behind it. I have always believed this makes a difference bigger than I, as your text invokes ... may it be so!
I am a grandmother with a new , beautiful granddaughter. I am graced to spend these early weeks with my daughter, now a mom. Singing in the night. So many mothers singing lullabies in the night.
Congratulations and welcome your granddaughter to this world
I’m currently reading the latest book by James Finley, The Healing Path: A memoir and an invitation. James was a young novice (directly out of high school) under Thomas Merton at the Abbey of Gethsemani. Singing in the Dark is in my mind as I read. Both are just what my heart and soul need right now. I’m staying with my youngest sister after her surgery, as we wait for pathology results later this coming week.
Prayers for you and your sister!
Having had the luck to born with a voice that reminds me of the sound made when emptying a gravel truck, singing was never my long suit. But, I am a self taught piano player and I'm good enough to impress my close friends. Also, I am lucky enough to have married late in life and someone who did not want a ring for an engagement gift, but instead wanted a grand piano. (I think the two were related.) As older adults, we created no children but made a beautiful home and family for ourselves and the dog.
One night I was having trouble sleeping. I rolled and tossed for what seemed like hours. For some reason, I got up, went downstairs and found myself sitting at the piano. I put the top down, so as to be as quiet as I could. I stood on the soft pedal to add as much more quiet as possible, and I barely touched the keys. But, I did sit there, all alone, and played the piano in the pitch darkness. It felt so good that I remember also closing my eyes to add more darkness, but still I could play.
Suddenly I became aware of my bride sitting next to me on the bench. We never spoke. She put her arm around my shoulder and I went back to playing, still as quietly as possible. The dog came and crawled up in her lap in a not-so-little ball. And, there we were ... the three of us ... in the middle of the night...sitting at the piano ... in total quiet ... not a word spoken ... hearing "Polka Dots and Moonbeams" and "Green Dolphin Street" and "Misty" ... falling in love all over again ... sharing our souls singing in the dark.
That was 1986. She and the dog are both long gone now and have retained very little of my hearing. So is that beautiful house and the piano both a memory. But, it seems like yesterday we had our moment. I still find times when I have great difficulty going to sleep, even though I am well into my 80s and alone now. I wonder ... do you suppose I still have my Erroll Garner CDs?
Thank you so much for the reminder ... some of us are the fortunate ones who have our own personal Singing in the Dark moments over which we can shed a loving tear ... Thank You.
John. Thank you for sharing this 💕🦩
Dearest John, I am on the windy coast of Maine, singing in a Congregational church with a 250 year old tree on its doorstep. I took a moment before sound check to read a few of the comments today. Your words and story have me wiping grateful tears from my eyes. Thank you for sharing this beautiful, story. I will carry it with me as a treasure. A deep bow. Thank you my friend.
Thank you also. I cried along with you.
As it happens, I also played trumpet most of my life up to age about age 50. In the early days, as a young soldier, I played in a Dixieland Band at the Officer's Club at Fr. Devans, MA. Occasionally we would "go out on tour", and in a weeks time play 8 or 10 places all over Maine and New Hampshire. I especially remember one in particular at what was then Rivier College, in Nashua, NH. and another great night in Kennebunk, ME. I remember that territory and the ice blowing in the wind as well.
I also am very grateful that I found you and all of your efforts. I am sad that I missed your program in Bloomington, but I will not miss the next one. Good luck, break a leg and big hugs for you from me ... John
Thank you for sharing your precious memory of singing in the dark ♥️
I absolutely love this song.
I have listened to many and appreciate your unique approach to lyrical content
My response is a copy of another reply to someone but think I obliquely applies.
A Reflection on Kimbra's Substack
When a Star Dies
It's hard
On us
When a young star
Supernovas
We maybe missed the signs
Or couldn't see
The flash blasts us
with thousands of bits
Of the relationshps we had built
With them
Whether acknowledged or not
The life rays we received from them
Resonated in our souls
Only because our souls
Resonated at the same frequencies
So we all
Have the innate power
To self resonate.
Birds sing to one another
Because they already knew
Some of the melodies
And were able to return the songs,
Or new interpretations,
Breathing them back
Into the air
So become a bird
And sing your notes.
For me, the darkness of current events seems heavier because I have a lot of family in Israel, some serving in the army. My feelings about the situation in the physical world frequently do not line up with my Spiritual beliefs. So I sing in the dark by meditating on the only truths I hold near and dear- Peace , Light, and Loving for all! Namaste!
I just recently discovered your music. The lyrics and sound you have put together touch my soul and deepen my prayer life. Music opens a connection to the heart, for me, that nothing else can reach. Thank you.
My singing in the dark isn’t in the physical darkness but in the darkness that seems to often deep into my heart, soul, being this time of year with the shortening of day light. My singing is looking for present moment joys, the sun rising behind the brown and golden leaves, the meow of the cat, the greeting from my husband, the encouragement of a friend by text. Knowing there are people sending out song and love in the darkness of hours is comforting especially when so many things are so hard in our world today. Thanks to you and John for your song
This is a beautiful song, and in your story, Brother Lawrence words send a shudder down the spine: "There is always someone singing in the dark at that vulnerable time of the night - for you, for me, for anyone awake or might need help at that hour."
What does "singing in the dark" mean to me? First of all, it resonates with me a lot, as I have been an early bird all my life.
"Singing in the dark" may be an activity that is physically silent, but which, as the songs do, makes other people's lives better. It may be doing tiny and quiet household chores early in the morning, before the work starts. It may be a baker working in the night so that a grocery opens with fresh bread on its shelves. A tired nurse or doctor may sing quietly at the end of their night shift, to keep themselves awake, attentive and motivated. Many people "sing in the dark" so that we can wake up and thrive. A good act of reciprocity is to find my own "night song": something I do before dawn for others.
(I replied with the same words to the Song Lab post "Singing in the Dark", but then I wrote it many days after the post had been published. I hope not to bore the readers by repeating the reply here)
Singing in the Dark has become a favorite since I received your new album... thank you, and thank John, for writing such a lovely, grounding piece of music in these troubled times. It's the melody I hear in my head as I move through the day, and sometimes when I'm awake at 3 am.