Darkened sky

One frightening thing ended last night in Boston.  Many other things have only just begun: the rehabilitation of severe injuries, grieving for lost loved ones, new fears and anxieties.  And with all of it, myriad speculation and assessment.

After looking over the news and commentary this morning, I picked up a book I’ve just started reading about play therapy.  It opens with an anecdote – teachers and psychologists attempt to make sense of a child’s behavior.  And then the author turns from her narrative to the following passage, which I thought worth considering at a time like this one, with so much to mourn and so many opportunities to pass judgment, to draw conclusion, to set opinion in stone, in so many directions:

“Out again into the night where the dulled light obscures the decisive lines of reality and casts over the immediate world a kindly vagueness.  Now, it is not a matter of all black and white.  It is not a matter of “this is it” because there is no glaring light of unequivocal evidence in which one sees a thing as it is and one knows the answers.  The darkened sky gives growing room for softened judgments, for suspended indictments, for emotional hospitality. What is, seen in such light, seems to have so many possibilities that definitiveness becomes ambiguous. Here the benefit of a doubt can flourish and survive long enough to force considerations of the scope and limitations of human evaluation.” (Virginia Axline, Dibs in Search of Self)

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