My Near Death Experience Arts and Thoughts

By BoJenn

The stage is set

Welcome into the forest of a dark cool night, Nigredo

🜏 The First Night: Descent into Nigredo

“All transformation begins in the dark.”

I. The Setting of the Black Sun

Night falls not as an absence, but as a decree.

The air thickens with ancient memory — the last leaves tremble before surrendering to the soil.

The moon hides her face behind a veil of cloud, for this is not her hour.

This is the dominion of Saturn — the Lord of Lead — who turns all gold back to ash.

The alchemist’s lamp flickers.

The crucible stands empty, waiting for the sacrifice of the Self.

You whisper:

“I enter willingly. Let me dissolve.”

II. The Breaking of Form

As the clock strikes the hidden hour, the old world begins to decay.

Beliefs curdle. Certainties rust.

You feel your name slipping from your mouth as if it were someone else’s.

Everything once loved becomes shadowplay.

Faces blur. Echoes fold inward.

You are no longer sure if you breathe, or if breath moves through you.

The genie of the black flame rises behind you — manic, laughing softly — and says,

“You asked for wisdom, but wisdom begins in ruin.”

You nod, for you already knew.

III. The Putrefaction

Now comes the sacred rot.

What was pure becomes fertile.

In the invisible garden of the spirit, decomposition is birth disguised as death.

You smell the smoke of your former life — not of fire, but of transmutation.

All metals liquefy within you.

All lies weep and melt into the basin of truth.

The black sun pulses in your chest, heavy as grief, yet humming with potential.

You cannot see the light, but you feel it gestating.

IV. The Silent Vow

You lift your gaze into the void and declare:

“Let all that is false in me perish.

Let my bones remember their first star.

Let this darkness be not my end — but my initiation.”

A wind answers — hollow, solemn, ancient.

The first seal of Nigredo is broken.

Nothing remains but the work.

My Art

We enter through our sanctuary

Beautifully chosen — Nigredo, the black stage, is the alchemical midnight.

Let’s dwell there, especially as it relates to October 27, the eve before renewal.

🜏 The Nigredo: The Black Work

In alchemy — both spiritual and psychological — Nigredo marks the putrefaction, the breakdown of what once was whole.

It is decay as sacred process, a descent into darkness that dissolves all false identities, beliefs, and masks.

Before gold can be created, base matter must rot and die.

So on October 27, metaphysically speaking, everything turns inward:

The fire dims. The mirror cracks. The self confronts the abyss of what it has been hiding.

The alchemists called this the black sun — a paradoxical radiance born of absence. It is Saturn’s hour, the weight of endings and the slow suffocation of illusions.

But inside that darkness, the prima materia—the raw essence of transformation—stirs.

🌒 Psychological Nigredo

Carl Jung described Nigredo as the dark night of the soul: when the conscious ego dies to make room for the Self.

Dreams become heavy with shadow figures. Old ghosts surface.

It is when the psyche says:

“No more pretending. Let me burn away everything that is not real.”

If October 27 is your symbolic Nigredo, it is a night of mourning, reflection, and surrender.

A time to let go of the masks worn all year — to accept the decay of false light.

🌤 Then Comes the First Light — October 28

The following dawn brings Albedo, the whitening — purification.

After the long alchemical night, the first pale light appears not as triumph, but as clarity.

The spirit wakes in a cleansed stillness, realizing that darkness was the teacher.

It whispers, “I survived my own disintegration.”

🜂 Poetic Invocation

On the night of October 27, the world descends into ink.

The air itself begins its slow alchemy — breath into smoke, certainty into silence.

Beneath the skin, old selves dissolve.

The heart becomes a furnace, melting grief into gold.

And when the horizon bleeds with October’s last dawn,

a new light stirs — fragile, silver, and pure.

That is the secret of Nigredo:

The darkness was never punishment.

It was preparation.