I was raised to believe that sadness is wallowing, anger uncalled for and fear self-indulgent. In its place, we picked ourselves up by our bootstraps and marched ourselves to the front lines every day in every way, in command and in control.
At the same time, I always carried the suspicion that there could be something more to life begging to be revealed, if only I knew where to look. I did not think to dive into the darkness. Rather, it felt organic—natural even—to go with my gut. And my gut told me, more often than not: “Run!”
But negative emotions denied do not just go away, they grow secret roots that penetrate every thought and emotion, entwining one’s heart with tendrils of doubt. It turns out that the very effort one exerts to suppress, manage or eliminate negativity becomes part of the shadow, itself.
Our attempts to love unconditionally, forced to bend around unacknowledged envy, betrayal and disappointment, become gnarly. Without boundaries, accommodating can be martyrdom walking hand in hand with passive aggression. Eventually, we have done everything we can think of to be the light, and yet the shadows persist.
That’s when we realize that we have no choice but to come to terms with our shadow. To become whole, we would seek to acknowledge, understand and embrace what we previously rejected about ourselves—but hold it lightly, tenderly with compassion for one’s self, and for the human condition.
This sounds good. And may even work sometimes, even for extended periods. But the shadow, ultimately, demands something more of us than peace. The shadow demands authenticity.
To accept one’s own authenticity, one does not simply love away one’s sadness and anger. One becomes whole when one tells the truth about whatever emotion has taken hold. When we truly accept anger, we are not peaceful. We are angry. When we accept sadness, we are not joyful, we are sad. Only then does a shift become possible. But if a shift is to come, it won’t be of our own doing.
For those of us who invested so much energy in achieving mastery, this is, indeed, an ordeal. To feel whatever has risen to the surface for you with no need to understand it? No need, even, for naming? No second-guessing; no peace-making or appeasement; no story about where it came from, what it means or what one needs to do about it? One neither clings nor lets go. The feeling is free to linger, or dig in, to shift about or move on. One is no more tempted to manage its journey than to make demands of the clouds as they pass overhead.
But even this degree of surrender bears no guarantees, for this is not a transaction. It is, rather, an act of blind faith; and if the shadows do lift, this is the gift of mercy and of grace.
I now realize that, in fact, it was never my job to embrace anything, either the shadow or the light. Rather, it is God who embraces me.
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