Nowadays, shadow dancing is a bit different. It's when all of the lovely "stuff" we're so tempted to hide comes out, refusing to be hidden or quieted.
My shadow self is relentless. She can be angry, restless, sad, uncomfortable, impatient, full of doubt, easily bored, judgemental, selfish, terrified, and emotional. She's convinced she is hideously ugly. She craves validation. She's oblivious, and is hungry and horny for something to quell her fear.
I don't like hanging out with her. I prefer to pretend she doesn't exist. I don't like her. But she's not having any of that. She won't be ignored.
For a long time, I thought love meant not having any of that "darkness" in your life. I thought it was something to be eliminated. I searched for, and tried many methods to do exactly that. But it doesn't work that way. At least, I will say it hasn't for me.
In late 2011, I took the lid off Pandora's Box. Slowly, my view of my shadow has changed.
There's a balance in everything. Love becomes a living thing and a way to be. Expectations become chains that you choose not to wear. There's this peculiar, intricate pattern of doing and waiting, moving and stillness; it's like a mathematical equation and yet it's art all at once. And you're part of it, one with it.
My nickname for my shadow self is "Rage Bitch." Because my first clue that she's around is that I am angry, enraged at everything and everyone. It's hot, red, venom, and it's hard not to spew it at everyone.
I don't fight with her anymore. Shadow gets way more intense, so much stronger when I deny her or fight with her. She's like a cornered animal, she gets vicious if threatened.
So I sit with it, whatever I'm feeling. At first, I literally just sit there and accept it. I'll just be there, and be angry. Sad. Impatient. Ugly. Terrified. Whatever is there is alright. I don't judge it.
After a while I talk to Shadow. I ask. "Why are you so angry? What is making you afraid? Why do you think you're ugly?" And I let her answer. Again, no judgement. Whatever the answer is, it's okay.
Finally, I just tell her it's alright. I tell her I love her. I thank her for being honest and for being so brave in bringing this up so we could talk about it. I remind her that she's beautiful, loved and amazing just as she is.
Sometimes an action step will come out of this, like talking to a family member or friend about an issue, or taking some other action. Other times, just the recognition and acceptance of where I was at is enough, and I will begin to feel lighter, happier, more at peace.
I've come to understand that Shadow comes out when there's something deeper, buried beneath the surface that needs the sun to shine brightly upon it. Something is needing to be seen, acknowledged and loved.
I also find the wisdom within my own body to be remarkable. Whenever Shadow comes to hang out, I usually find that there has been an accompanying message in my physical body. It can be a headache, fatigue, or a myriad of other symptoms. When Shadow comes to remind me of things that I need to release, this is often timed to line up perfectly with my menstrual cycle.
All in all, I've spent a good deal of time and effort trying to run from Shadow. What I've learned is that I can't. Shadow is a part of me, a part that has just as much to teach me as Light does.
She's the one who has made me look at all of the things that fly out of Pandora's Box. She's the one who gave me the gift of discomfort that made me question the status quo of my life, on all levels. She graces me with impatience when I'm not moving along when I need to be. She was the one who kept pushing when I was looking for a place to learn as I continue on this path. She makes me uncomfortable enough to break meaningless rules that limit me, and everyone else.
And yeah, when she makes herself known, I still roll my eyes and think "Here we go, what's she all freaked about this time?" But truly, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Darkness, light and everything in between. It's all me. And, it's all good.
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