In my opening, thematic overlay for this Lenten series, I used a quote by Jan Richardson:
…to create, to take what we find in the shadows of our lives
and craft what never before has been seen.
The shadows of our lives are tricky. They are called “shadows” for a reason: ostensibly to remain hidden, lurking behind-the-scenes. This becomes problematic when we see them exclusively as such; when we believe that they only represent aspects of ourselves that are undesirable, dark, and dangerous.
We fear that were we to let our shadows into the light of the day, we’d be too much, too wild, too overwhelming.
This is where I disagree. Shadows, I think, are the shadings in which our truest sense of self is brewing, stirring, waiting to be tasted, enjoyed, and celebrated. And to return to Richardson’s quote, they are the very things that enable us to “craft what never before has been seen.”
Clarissa Pinkola Estes speaks to this in her brilliant book Women Who Run With The Wolves:
…shadow elements, meaning aspects of oneself which are considered by the ego to be undesirable or not useful are therefore relegated to the dark. On one hand, shadow material can be quite positive, for often a woman’s gifts are pushed into the dark, hidden there and waiting to be discovered. On the other hand, negative shadow material – that which busily kills off or derails all new life – can also be turned to one’s use…When it erupts, and we finally identify its aspects and sources, we are made all the stronger and wiser.
Mmmm. I love this. Gifts that are pushed into the dark, hidden there and waiting to be discovered. Negative shadow material that makes us all the stronger and wiser.
We spend so much time shoving shadows down. We morph. We become what others need, expect, and demand. And in the process, our stronger and wiser selves move into the shadows – waiting to erupt. We remain silent. We comply. (More on this tomorrow.)
What would happen if we believed that our shadows know; that they can be trusted and are worth bringing into the light?
For your reflection:
- Same question: What would happen if you believed that your shadows knew; that they could be trusted and are worth bringing into the light?
- Do you fear being too much, too wild, too overwhelming?
- Can you imagine what you’d look like, who you’d be, if your truest, out-of-the-shadows self emerged?
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{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
I love this too! “Gifts that are pushed into the dark, hidden there and waiting to be discovered. Negative shadow material that makes us all the stronger and wiser.” Sometimes I have to sit with my dark … it teaches me about what is missing in my life and what is still hidden.
.-= idelette´s last blog ..Voices of Haiti: Jeremy Cowart Photography brings Haiti home =-.
Isn’t that true? And often, at least I’ve found, I don’t go to the dark willingly; rather, it is forced on my somehow. But when there, eventually, I begin to see what it offers, what it invites, how it changes. Not easy…but good. Like most things that matter. Thanks, Idelette.
Now this is exactly what I need to kick-start my writing heart. Fear of one’s shadows? Oh lady, this is GOOD. Personally, I’m conflicted. The person I know I am is wild and dark and bright and completely mad (Alice?). But the person I’m perceived as is calm, cool, and collected. Bit of a disconnect. So how in the bloody hell do you fix it? Can you? Should you? Is how people perceive you more important than how you perceive yourself?
Delicious questions that beg answering. Or prodding. Either or.
.-= Amanda´s last blog ..I’m a man’s man, man. =-.
Yes, delicious questions that I’m not convinced demand one-for-all-time answers. I’m increasingly seduced by thoughts of the process, the movement, the shadows that grow as the day gets longer. I wonder about the “work” of bringing our shadows into the light…or, even more interesting to me, inviting others into our deeper, darker self. And for me, “deeper/darker” means richer, thicker, more passionate, more wild – more me. All good – beautiful – bright – and maybe just a little mad. I’m with Alice’s father who, when she asks him if she’s mad, replies by saying, “All the best people truly are.”
Write, woman, write!!! I will read!
What I fear about my shadow self is, in many ways, her amazing way to be self-centered… perhaps self-focused is a better way to put it. My bad twin as I call her- Necole- doesn’t let anyone or anything get in the way of what she wants for herself and she’s VERY sure of what she wants. She doesn’t understand or think it makes sense for her to sacrifice HER desires to make anyone else happy. There are things I love about Necole–her exuberance, her fieriness, her self assurance, her complete dedication to enjoying life… but she scares me as well. Necole would never be happy with the life that I live now, and I know it, but I have responsibilities, people who depend on me and where would that leave them if I threw down all the chains that I carry? I feel like I have chained my shadow self down and sometimes I feel her railing against those bonds and I feel guilty…but I have no idea how to move past the fear to let her out or if I’m even ready to do so. Necole can’t be trusted to be controlled…
.-= Shauntelle´s last blog ..You made it to the other side… =-.
Mmmm, Shauntelle. So much here. So much I want to say. But for now…maybe just think about lengthening Necole’s chain, letting her into the light for longer stretches, introducing her to those who depend on you, seeing what happens when she just says/does one or two things. It’s a lifelong process – both knowing our shadows and then inviting them into our lit-up world; or, as I said to Amanda below…escorting our lit-up world into the depth of our truest selves. Not a light-switch process, by any means.
Just know that you’re not alone – and that Necole’s welcome here anytime.
The potent, fecund shadows… yeah it is scary there.
There is a trick I sometimes get caught up by:
My cogitating thinking mind, her who I think is me, is often just busy-making noise. She is not my truest me. She’s not generally bad, her busy-ness may not kill off new life, but she certainly doesn’t provide those fertile resources for growth. However she knows as an intellectually-cognizable fact, that the shadows are a source of wisdom and strength, which, she was told at some point, are good things. So she cogitates, “I’m supposed to go to the shadows. If I go down to the shadows I’m a spiritually wise person.” And she was told at some point, that being a spiritually wise person is good. So she compliantly holds onto this cogitated fact, and thinks she’s being a good girl.
But that ain’t goin’ down into the shadows.
And then because the shadows are scary, the truest heart-of-me isn’t necessarily heading there all too gleefully either. But because my conscious mind holds onto her little fact, and thinks she is going into the shadows, it means my resistance, my hanging around on the edges of the darkness, poking a toe in now and then, is kind of invisible. Hidden beneath my cogitating self-congratiulating (oh what a good girl I am) compliant busy-making mind. And the more I tell myself how good a girl I am for holding onto that spiritual fact, and the more scared I get because I’m not really going there, the more unknowingly stuck I am on the shadow’s margins, all bound up in this tricky and largely invisible double-bind.
Truthfully I think a lot of spiritually-inclined folks get caught up in similar ways.
But for me, this eases some of the stuckness:
Jung had a term that I like, the golden shadow, which he used exactly for what you’re talking about, Ronna — those “gifts that are pushed into the dark, hidden there and waiting to be discovered.” For me, the idea that they are rich gold, shining soft and calm in the shadows, is a reassurance. Not so scary. And then I can be a little softer and calmer myself, not so scared, a little more kind. And that means I can avoid getting wrapped up quite so badly around the axle of my double-bind.
Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it gives me courage to settle down into the heart of me, just breathe, just be, and look around. And then from there, sometimes I see noise and chaos and lostness. Sometimes I see shadows. And sometimes I see rich gold gleaming in the dark fertile soil.
OK, Karen. This could be a whole blog post all your own! I’m deeply humbled and grateful that it shows up here. And also SO moved by the idea of the golden shadow. Yes. I’m convinced that our shadow, though untamed, wild beauty, is most definitely kind, gracious, and not at all scary. It’s a quiet, solid strength that waits, that emboldens, that nudges and reminds, that germinates and fertilizes, that whispers of our truest self – not the one on the edges, but the one who will most definitely be known/seen in crystallized, glorious, golden ways. Thank you!
I’ve learned from personal experience that the smallest worries can cast the biggest shadows. Sometimes it takes a whole new mindset to escape those shadows – to come out into the light and really reveal oneself (the truth).
You have such a beautiful way with words and I love the way you have the ability to challenge my mindset.
.-= Tracy Todd´s last blog ..Just Feel =-.
Thank you, Tracy. I wonder sometimes how much of our shadows are our own, and how much of the time we feel covered/hidden/darkened by them because of those cast by others (or worries). As with all things, of course, it’s a combination…just something I’m pondering given the on-line conversation that’s ensued in these last posts. ‘Appreciate your kind words – and your presence.