Tag Archives: shadows

Pulled Under


The pull of the shadow emotions
is very strong, as if I were chained
to boulders and thrown overboard
into the ocean,
trying to keep from being pulled under,
struggling to catch my breath,
so much thrashing about,
fighting for survival.
And then it occurs to me,
what if I let myself get pulled under?
What is down there?
Maybe once I’m pulled under
someone familiar with the depths
shows up with a key
and unlocks the chains from around me,
sets me free.
Maybe I discover I’m holding the key,
and I can find freedom even as I sink,
holding my breath, keeping my wits about me,
finding lightness, swimming back up
to breathe the breath of life.
Maybe I die in those depths.
Maybe I am reborn
some shimmering creature of the land and sea,
able to navigate both worlds.
I can’t know what waits for me
if I keep struggling at the surface.
Maybe I’ll let myself be pulled under.

We Need the Shadows


The point isn’t to escape uncertainty,
it isn’t to create security…
everything is changing always,
and therefore nothing is certain,
and nothing is secure.
But learning to deal with our own discomfort–
ah THIS,
this is the path of the warrior.
We use each moment
to come to terms with
what we have been refusing to acknowledge
until now.
As the fear, the anger,
the tenderness, the sadness arise
we can choose…
Do we hold the feeling,
bringing it close to us where it can
Or do we ignore the feeling,
suppress, hold down…
allowing it to harden,
to block the flow of compassion
from our hearts to the hearts of others?
Let the discomfort in.
Allow yourself to feel.
We need the shadows
to know where the sunlight
shines brightest.

Thoughts Following A Moment With My Old Journals


In anticipation of our imminent move, I decided that I would once and for all do something I’ve been planning on doing for years–organize my journals by first labeling each one with the date begun and the date completed, then put them in chronological order and group them by years, and finally put the groups in enormous zip-loc bags to protect them from moisture and other nuisances, like the cave crickets that enjoy jumping into the boxes and pooping all over my next great American novel that has been living in hiding and refuses to make itself known because it is way too shy to be exposed to the public eye. The oldest journal of mine that is in my possession was begun in fifth grade, and I don’t know how many dozens I have filled since then, but they have been living in multiple boxes in my basement for five years haunting me, asking to be held, to be recognized.  I read stuff today that I had written twelve years ago, and my God!  Was I self absorbed back then!  Stuck in my head, full of uncertainty, feeling entitled to an easier life, anxious, lonely, full of longing, wanting to know my path, you know–the kind of mental crap that most of us go through in our twenties.

Here’s what I wrote tonight in my current journal regarding the experience of reading my words from back then:


I searched through some old shadows
and found light today…
What I saw as demons back then
were actually angels in disguise
and the deep dreams I had then
are the same deep dreams I have now,
only now I am in the middle of living them.

I reconnected with the thought
that the desire for an experience
is a seed
and sometimes it takes great patience
and trust
and a great deal of time
for the seed to germinate,
take root, sprout, unfurl
and blossom into the light of reality.

The single most important thing I take from this experience
is the greatest gift I can offer to my self right now–
to enjoy my desires, the creation of them,
but then to set them free,
because always
what actually happens
is so much more amazing
than what I had originally anticipated.

So there is trust
and patience;
and with these
arrives the ability to relax deeply
and en-JOY where I am
right now.

Thank you Mother-Father God
for leading me to this place of health
and well-being,
this place of contentment,
this place of certainty
that I am always exactly
where I need to be,
doing exactly what I need to be doing,
in the presence of all people
from whom I have something to receive
and to whom I have something to give.

To abide in such awareness
for even the briefest of moments,
I see how utterly loved we are
and how utterly capable
of molding our wills
to align with our deepest potential
for awakening in awareness
of who we truly are.