You’ve probably heard someone say they’re going through a "dark night of the soul" because they lost their job or went through a messy breakup. It's become shorthand for "I'm really depressed." But honestly? That’s not what St. John of the Cross was talking about. Not even close.
When the 16th-century Spanish mystic penned the poem La noche dichosa (The Glad Night) while sitting in a cramped, dark prison cell in Toledo, he wasn't describing a bout of clinical depression or a run of bad luck. He was describing a brutal, surgical, and ultimately beautiful stripping away of the ego. It’s a spiritual detox. It’s the moment the training wheels of religion and emotional "feel-goods" are ripped off, leaving you wobbling in the dark.
If you feel like your spiritual life has gone completely cold, or that the practices that used to bring you peace now feel like chewing on sand, you might actually be encountering the real St John of the Cross dark night of the soul.
The Prison Cell Where It All Began
History matters here. John wasn’t sitting in a breezy monastery sipping wine when he wrote this. He was a prisoner of his own religious order. Because he wanted to reform the Carmelites—basically calling them back to a simpler, more austere life—his "brothers" locked him in a closet-sized cell for nine months.
He was whipped. He was starved. He had no light except for what peeked through a tiny hole in the wall.
It was in this literal darkness that he found the metaphorical darkness. He realized that when everything external is taken away—reputation, comfort, even the "feeling" of God’s presence—something else wakes up. He escaped that prison with a poem hidden in his clothes. That poem became the foundation for two of the most influential books in Western mysticism: The Ascent of Mount Carmel and The Dark Night.
Depression vs. The Dark Night: Let’s Clear This Up
We have to be careful. In our modern world, we tend to medicalize everything. If you can’t get out of bed, have suicidal ideation, or feel a heavy "fog" over your brain, that is likely clinical depression. You should see a doctor. John of the Cross wouldn't tell a person with a chemical imbalance to just "pray through it."
The St John of the Cross dark night of the soul is different.
In a dark night, your mind still functions. You might be very successful in your career. You might be a great parent. But your inner spiritual life feels like a desert. You try to pray, and it’s silent. You try to find meaning in the things that used to excite your soul, and they feel empty.
Professor Constance FitzGerald, a leading scholar on John’s work, argues that the dark night is actually a process of "transformation of desire." It’s not that you’re sad; it’s that your old ways of relating to the divine and yourself are being upgraded. Like a software update that freezes your computer for an hour. It’s frustrating, but it’s necessary for the new system to run.
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The Two Stages You’ll Actually Face
John breaks this down into two distinct phases. He calls them the "Night of the Sense" and the "Night of the Spirit."
The Night of the Sense is the first hurdle. Most people stop here. You know that "honeymoon phase" when you first start a meditation practice or get into a new spiritual path? Everything feels amazing. You get "chills." You feel "connected." John says these are just "spiritual sweets." They’re treats God gives to beginners to keep them interested.
Eventually, the treats stop.
The Night of the Sense happens when those emotional highs disappear. You feel bored. Dry. Distracted. John says this is actually a sign of progress. It means you’re moving past the "feelings" of spirituality and into the reality of it. You’re learning to love the truth, not just the "good vibes" the truth gives you.
Then comes the Night of the Spirit. This is the deep end. This is where your very identity—who you think you are, your "holiness," your ego—gets dismantled. It feels like being lost at sea. It’s terrifying because you lose your "landmarks." You don't know who you are anymore. But in John’s view, this is the only way to reach union with the Divine. You have to be emptied before you can be filled.
Why This Isn't Just for "Religious" People
You don’t have to be a Catholic monk to get this.
Modern psychology, specifically Jungian thought, looks at the dark night as the "shadow work" phase. It’s the mid-life transition or the existential crisis that forces you to confront the fact that your ego is a tiny, fragile thing.
The St John of the Cross dark night of the soul is essentially a crisis of the ego.
Think about a person who has built their whole life on being "the smart one" or "the helpful one." What happens when they fail? What happens when they can't help? The darkness that follows isn't just a bad mood; it’s the death of a false self. John would say, "Let it die."
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Common Misconceptions That Make It Worse
People often think they’re being punished. "I must have done something wrong because I don't feel God/Peace/The Universe anymore."
John says the exact opposite.
He calls the night "sheer grace." He uses the image of a mother weaning a child. The child cries because they want the milk (the emotional comfort), but the mother knows the child needs solid food to grow. The darkness is the weaning.
Another mistake? Trying to "fix" it.
We live in a "fix-it" culture. We want a 5-step plan to get back to the light. But the dark night isn't a problem to be solved; it’s an experience to be lived. If you try to force the light back on, you usually just end up creating a fake version of it. You start "performing" your spirituality instead of being honest about the void you feel.
How to Navigate the Darkness (According to a 16th-Century Rebel)
If you're in it right now, John has some pretty specific, albeit counter-intuitive, advice.
First, stop trying to meditate "harder." If your mind is dry, stop forcing it. John suggests "loving awareness." Just sit there. Be in the blankness. Don't try to manufacture a feeling.
Second, check your pride. Often, we hate the dark night because it makes us feel weak and "unspiritual." We want to be the person who has all the answers and feels the Zen. The dark night humbles us. It reminds us we aren't in control. Lean into that helplessness.
Third, look for the "fruits." You might feel like crap, but are you becoming more patient? Are you less judgmental of others? Are you less attached to what people think of you? If the answer is yes, the dark night is working its magic, even if it feels like a nightmare.
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The Surprising Ending of the Poem
Most people forget how the poem ends. It doesn't end in darkness.
It ends with the soul "among the lilies," forgotten and at peace. The "dark night" is actually a journey toward something. John calls it a "happy chance" and a "lucky night."
Why? Because the soul is finally free.
When you no longer need the world to applaud you, and you no longer need your emotions to validate you, you become invincible in a way. You’ve walked through the fire and realized that the "you" you were so worried about wasn't the real you anyway.
Moving Forward Without the Map
The St John of the Cross dark night of the soul is a journey from the "known" to the "unknown." It is, by definition, confusing.
If you are feeling this specific type of spiritual desolation, here are some actionable ways to handle it:
- Audit your "Spiritual Sweets": Identify which parts of your practice you do just for the "good feeling." Try letting them go for a week and see what’s left.
- Practice "Nuda Veritas" (Naked Truth): Be brutally honest in your journaling. Don't write what you should feel. Write the emptiness. John believed that being "naked" before the truth was the only way to progress.
- Read the Source: Don't just read summaries. Read John’s poem The Dark Night (it’s short!). Look at the language he uses. It’s romantic, intense, and surprisingly gritty.
- Differentiate Your Distress: If you feel a loss of function in your daily life, please consult a therapist. The dark night and clinical depression can overlap, and there is no shame in seeking medical help while navigating a spiritual transition.
- Find a "Soul Friend": In the Celtic tradition, they call this an Anam Cara. Find someone who has been through it. Not someone who will give you platitudes or try to "fix" you, but someone who can sit in the dark with you without needing to turn the light on.
The dark night isn't the end of the road. It's the road itself. As John famously wrote, "In order to arrive at being everything, desire to be nothing." It’s a hard pill to swallow, but for those who finish the journey, the clarity on the other side is worth every moment of the shadows.
Next Steps:
To deepen your understanding of this transition, start by tracking your "internal weather" for seven days. Distinguish between emotional sadness (which has a cause) and spiritual dryness (which feels like a lack of "taste" for previous joys). If the dryness persists despite an otherwise healthy life, begin reading The Ascent of Mount Carmel to understand the active role you can play in this passive purification. Be patient with the process; the ego took a lifetime to build, and it won't be dismantled in a weekend.