The Light Dilemma: When Darkness Feels Safer, and We Struggle to Trust the Power of Light

Kerry Jehanne-Guadalupe

Trusting the light—especially in the face of darkness—can be one of the greatest challenges we encounter.

When we are confronted with betrayal, prejudice, or injustice, the impulse to strike back can feel compelling. Meeting fire with fire often carries the illusion of strength, control, and protection. In moments of pain, we may feel more inclined to clench a fist than extend a hand, to overpower opposing ideas rather than sit with them. Darkness can feel decisive. It can feel safe.

This chapter explores why the human psyche is so often drawn to using darkness to fight darkness—and why trusting the light for protection can feel not only difficult but, at times, unrealistic or even dangerous.

In this context, darkness refers to the impulse to respond to fear, pain, or injustice through destruction rather than transformation—the belief that force, domination, or retaliation is the only viable path to safety and freedom. Darkness takes many forms, some overt and others deeply embedded, and carries meanings that are both literal and metaphorical.

This writing does not examine the full spectrum of darkness, such as tactics of domination and manipulation, the deliberate suppression of information, extreme violence and cruelty—including war—the spread of fear, uncertainty, and insecurity, or corruption and systemic injustice. Nor does it focus on the subtler ways we may betray ourselves or enact control and resentment in relationships. It also does not explore the polarity of light and dark, nor the generative or necessary aspects of darkness—the inner shadow work that can lead to liberation and self-renewal.

Instead, my focus is narrower and more psychological: why—at both personal and collective levels—responding to darkness with darkness can seem the quickest route to safety, even when it may ultimately deepen suffering rather than resolving it.

Even when we know that hatred contracts us, narrows our vision, and blinds us to our interconnectedness, we may still feel drawn to it. Even when we recognize that revenge poisons the mind, tightens the body, and traps us in cycles of suffering, we may still choose it. And even when we understand that light can transmute darkness, reveal truth, and dissolve conflict, we may resist it.

Light does not always feel like the right choice, even though it offers clarity, resilience, resolution, and creative possibility. While light is inherently active—capable of alchemizing pain—it may not appear active enough to keep us safe. It can feel too subtle, too uncertain, to offer real protection. Although choosing the light is not passive optimism but an intentional, disciplined practice of choosing clarity, wisdom, and integrity over fear and destruction, it often asks us to lean into uncertainty and to trust something beyond immediate force or gratification—and that can feel like a daunting challenge.

Though light is more vast than can be fully defined, in this context, it is understood as a transforming presence. It is a conscious choice to meet adversity with clarity, integrity, and creative response, while cultivating patience, resilience, and trust in transformation rather than domination.

There are several psychological, historical, and existential reasons why humans may struggle to trust the light. By understanding these tendencies, we can begin to trace their origins, loosen their hold on us, and open new pathways toward power and transformation.

The Cycle of Trauma and Pain

Those who have suffered deeply may instinctively mirror the very darkness that wounded them, believing that meeting it on its own terms is the only path to survival or justice. When pain, betrayal, or abandonment have shaped one’s history, darkness can feel familiar—even predictable. The nervous system, conditioned by threat, may come to expect conflict, making trust in light feel naïve, unrealistic, or even dangerous.

Trauma often trains the body and mind for survival, reinforcing patterns of vigilance and distrust. When past experiences have taught that love, hope, or faith led to disappointment or harm, light may no longer feel like a viable option. Pain often seeks to replicate itself; in an effort to reclaim a sense of power, individuals may unconsciously adopt the same darkness that once caused them harm.

Breaking this cycle may invite us into a conscious shift—from survival-based reactions toward more intentional, present-moment choice. Practices such as somatic healing, breathwork, and deep presence can support the regulation of our nervous systems, helping us move beyond automatic, fear-driven responses. As we learn to recognize triggers as signals rather than absolute truths, something may begin to soften—when fear or anger arises, pausing to ask whether our response is rooted in past pain or present wisdom can create space for discernment and choice.

As we cultivate environments where light is consistently felt—through supportive relationships, time in nature, or spiritual practice—we may begin to restore a sense of safety and trust from within. Over time, this steady presence of light can make it more possible to choose differently, even as old wounds resurface.

The Seduction of Power

Darkness often offers immediate gratification. Anger can feel powerful, vengeance can feel just, and control can feel safe. In moments of threat or urgency, darkness can seem to offer quick strength and certainty, while light may ask more of us—patience, trust, and inner fortitude—qualities that can feel too slow or uncertain when the stakes are high.

At times, we may fear that love and wisdom will be ineffective, while force and dominance seem to promise faster results. Power rooted in darkness can feel intoxicating, reinforcing the belief that it is the only form of strength that truly works.

Shifting away from this seduction may require us to recognize that strength drawn from darkness is often fleeting and ultimately unsustainable. What feels like control is frequently a reaction to fear, whereas enduring strength tends to grow from inner clarity and resilience. As we practice small, consistent acts of light—choosing compassion over retaliation, patience over impulsivity, integrity over domination—we may begin to build a form of power that does not depend on fear or force. Cultivating inner authority through self-awareness and discipline can help us remain grounded in the light, even when darkness tempts us with the illusion of quick results.

A familiar example appears in Star Wars through the character of Anakin Skywalker, who comes to believe that the Jedi—the embodiment of the light—are too weak to protect those he loves. In turning to the dark side for power, he gains immediate strength but loses himself in the process. In more ordinary yet equally consequential ways, we see this pattern repeated in real life, when political or corporate leaders justify corruption or deception out of fear that honesty and integrity will cost them influence or control.

Conditioning and Cultural Narratives

Across cultures, we are often taught to associate power with vengeance, war, and domination. Narratives that glorify aggression and force subtly embed the belief that defeating evil requires meeting it on its own terms. In contrast, light is frequently portrayed as passive, naïve, or unrealistic.

Through movies, media, and even historical accounts, we repeatedly encounter stories in which those who “fight fire with fire” are celebrated as triumphant. These portrayals can reinforce the idea that darkness is necessary to win, while light is dismissed as weak, impractical, or insufficient in the face of a real threat.

Freeing ourselves from this conditioning may invite us to seek out different models of strength—ones rooted in wisdom, integrity, and resilience rather than domination. As we study individuals, movements, and philosophies that embody light as an active force, our understanding of power can begin to shift. Immersing ourselves in teachings, stories, and communities that honor love, consciousness, and moral courage helps reveal that light is not passive, but enduring.

By gently questioning the narratives we have inherited—asking whether true power arises from force or from unwavering wisdom—we may begin to loosen the grip of the belief that darkness is required for victory, and open ourselves to a deeper, more sustainable understanding of strength.

Doubt in the Light’s Strength

Understandably, many of us struggle to believe that love, truth, or higher consciousness can truly withstand brutality. When light is perceived as “soft” or “weak,” it becomes difficult to recognize its deeper, unshakable strength. We may fear that trusting the light will leave us exposed, powerless, or vulnerable to being taken advantage of.

This doubt often arises from a convergence of cultural conditioning, lived trauma, and historical narratives that elevate force as the primary means of survival. We are frequently taught—implicitly or explicitly—to equate power with aggression, assuming that only brute strength can endure in a world shaped by violence and deception. Because light does not rely on domination or destruction, it is often misperceived as passive, fragile, or naïve.

Yet this perception misunderstands the true nature of light. Light is not submission; it is an enduring force that transforms, reveals, and persists. Love, in its highest expression, is not weakness—it is foundational. Truth cannot be destroyed, only resisted. Higher consciousness does not collapse under brutality; it absorbs, transmutes, and ultimately outlasts it.

The belief that light is “soft” often stems from viewing love and truth as ideals rather than as forces capable of meeting darkness without becoming it. History offers countless examples of individuals who embodied the strength of light in the face of profound suffering—those who endured persecution without surrendering their inner clarity or integrity. In trusting the light, they revealed that its power lies not in fighting fire with fire, but in exposing fire for what it is: impermanent, unstable, and unable to withstand the steady resilience of truth.

As we build trust in the light, practice may become essential—especially when doubt arises. Small, intentional choices—choosing honesty over convenience, kindness over retaliation, patience over reactivity—may help cultivate an inner knowing that light is not weakness, but strength. Over time, these choices can anchor us in the understanding that light is not a fragile ideal, but an enduring power—one that outlasts fear and deception because it is rooted in something deeper than circumstance.

The Fear of Vulnerability

The light often asks us to remain open—to soften, to surrender, and to trust. In the presence of perceived threat, this can feel profoundly risky. Our minds and bodies, shaped by survival, instinctively reach for control, making it difficult to believe that softness could be stronger than force.

When we have experienced betrayal, loss, or harm, we may come to associate openness with danger and defensiveness with safety. Trusting the light can feel like inviting more pain, while holding ourselves closed appears to offer protection. Because light asks us to loosen control rather than tighten it, it may feel especially unsafe when darkness feels close.

Embracing vulnerability as strength often requires a gentle shift in perspective—one that recognizes openness not as weakness, but as a courageous and deliberate choice. As we learn to remain present without collapsing into fear, we may gain access to a deeper, more resilient form of power. Practices such as heart-coherence meditation, somatic awareness, or reflective self-inquiry can help reframe vulnerability, inviting us to ask: What if my strength lies in my willingness to remain open?

Through small, intentional steps—speaking truth with care, offering kindness, or practicing deep listening—we can gradually build the capacity to trust the light, even when fear urges us to shut down.

When vulnerability is met with courage rather than collapse, light moves from concept to lived reality

When Light Leads

Throughout history, many have sought to confront darkness with more darkness—violence with violence, hatred with hatred—believing that this is what empowerment requires. Yet history also offers compelling evidence that the most enduring transformations do not arise from meeting darkness on its own terms, but from trusting in the power of light.

This truth is reflected in the lives of those who endured profound suffering and oppression, yet chose paths rooted in wisdom, courage, and compassion. Figures such as Martin Luther King Jr.,Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, Saint Francis of Assisi, Viktor Frankl, Thich Nhat Hanh, Harriet Tubman, and the many leaders of the Underground Railroad are remembered not because they were untouched by brutality, but because they refused to let brutality define their actions or their souls.

Yet beyond these well-known figures are countless unnamed individuals—past and present—who meet injustice each day with moral courage, nonviolent resistance, and a steady commitment to human dignity. Their choices may be quiet and largely unseen, but they are no less powerful. By choosing light over fear and retaliation, they continue to reshape our collective consciousness in subtle and profound ways.

When someone forgives a business partner who betrayed them, or when a teacher diffuses conflict through wisdom rather than punishment, their lives become living testimonies to the resilience of the human spirit. Guided by love and purpose, they show us that even in the face of deep pain, we retain the capacity to choose differently. Though their stories may never be recorded, their courage ripples outward—awakening the light in others and reminding us that darkness is never the final authority.

These “everyday” acts reveal a profound truth: light is not passive. It is not weak. It is an active, transformative force—capable of dissolving darkness without becoming it.

Their lives remind us that true transformation does not come from fighting darkness with darkness, but through the alchemy of the soul—where pain becomes wisdom, anger becomes strength, and suffering is transmuted into the power to uplift and restore.

The Soul’s Role in Trusting the Light

As we deepen our connection to the soul, trusting the light may begin to feel more natural. Unlike the ego, which is shaped by fear, pain, and social conditioning, the soul operates from a deeper knowing—one that remembers truth, love, and wisdom as the true sources of strength.

Rebuilding trust in the light often begins with strengthening this soul connection. Practices such as deep meditation, contemplation, and heart-centered awareness help us hear the soul’s quiet guidance beneath the noise of fear and reactivity. Each time we choose to act in alignment with truth and integrity—choosing love over fear, wisdom over impulse—we reinforce the soul’s presence in our lives. Over time, this alignment gently dissolves doubt, revealing the light not as a fragile ideal, but as an enduring force that remains steady even in uncertainty.

The heart, when open and grounded, holds the capacity to transmute even the deepest wounds into sources of illumination. In trusting the light, we may step into a fuller expression of our humanity, affirming that love, truth, and courage remain the most powerful forces for change. Choosing light does not mean suppressing pain; it means transforming it. It does not require denying darkness; rather, it requires refusing to let it define who we become. We do not need to mirror what has harmed us in order to heal or protect ourselves.

This way of being may ask for a shift in consciousness—learning to recognize strength in resilience rather than revenge, and to move forward with clarity, integrity, and purpose rather than retaliation. Yet this shift is possible because the light is not something we must strive to reach. It is who we are.