In the Shadows

My manuscript is ready to be read, to be shared, to be published. And I know it may be hard to get from here to there because what I speak of there, is about the stuff beneath our surfaces. And the way I speak doesn't spare the reader of the mess and chaos of moods and confusion. The writing doesn't even try to hide the confusion and so it's a bit unusual. And the subject includes the parts of all of us which are inconvenient--literally--the varied inconvenient truths inside of us, which we often prefer not to face.

I've said I think distraction is the greatest pollutant because if we are distracted we can't attend to the facts of global warming, the facts of potential resolution of conflict and on and on. But distraction isn't solved only by a surface renewal of hope and good will, even though that can be a thrilling and positive force. For it to be lasting, any change has to go deep and through the center of a person. Change is messy and full of doubts and mixed feelings, and owning this part of it has also not been a popular or even readily admitted part of existence. It's hard for us to live organically even here, admitting the more savage and primal parts of what it means to be part of life and to be a person. It can be hard on a daily and ready basis to admit that we are all connected to each other, even as we are connected to the beautiful and ugly aspects of feeling--feeling which is also part of ecology: there is no humanity without it.

The "shadow" is a term used by the Swiss psychoanalyst Carl Jung, to speak of the parts of ourselves inconvenient and uncomfortable and thus often hidden from sight. We tend to hide the deeper parts which scare us or which seem shameful: the macho Marlboro man hides his tears and the sweet charity worker hides his rage. And in the hiding we need a scapegoat--someone onto whom we project our own uneasy pieces. The way to greater health and intimacy and respectful living is in owning and taming the wilder or more fragile parts so we don't blame each other for those "inconvenient" traits. And yet this idea hasn't quite caught on. It's in the easy fix or the nostalgia for things and glories past that we often place our stock.

It is so very inconvenient to stop blaming someone else for pain and stress that may lie under our surfaces. But it can also be very lonely. It can be a terribly lonely place and space --that land of beginning to stop the hiding, the running, the make believe. It is more sober, more peaceful, even more full of joy since it's more possible to create a life and direction fueled by passion and fullness of spirit rather than be limited by avoiding important parts of ourselves.

The constant pretending makes people shallow and flat and unreceptive.

And yet it seems it wasn't that long ago that I used to yearn to be one of those make believe people if I only could-- I used to wish that I could be one of those simpler people, and "niceness" would make it that much easier. It was never to be. I was always too moody or too in touch with the crankiness inside to pass for solidly sweet, and I was hardly ever accused of over-sweetness.

And now how could I wish for the shallow when everything of beauty in my life and everyone of meaning in my life is ever so complex, and filled with contradiction. And when we have children who show us how very magnificent complexity can be when they do not have to hide as much as I felt I had to for so long.

But there are many people who need to hide in shame the pain, the vulnerability, the rage and fear of lands within as well as the plagues of the outside world. And even though I have devoted so much of my life to embracing my honesty as much as I have been able, the loneliness of my own admissions is sometimes haunting. I know that as I have said before, when a person is hurt by a burst of sensitivity, "it is not only the moment but the memory". It--the loneliness--also comes from my memory of my vision of things not being shared or validated at an age when that validation would have been as important as oxygen.

Nothing can make up for the wounds of a past loneliness. But healing from disappointments happens most readily with the possibility of company, of witnesses, of those willing to share in the experience in some small or big way. I often wish for more company in this place between certainty and doubt. I wish for less isolation even though when sadness isn't there, the company I do have is full and enough.

But there is something about community that has always seemed important, really having more people around who admit flaws and unevenness, who refresh the atmosphere with the freshness of a sudden laugh and the lack of stiff predictability.

My friend said, not long ago, "We all need each other in so many ways". I wish more people knew that. At least I feel that way today.

I guess one might say that as the mind dances, so do the feelings. Unless, of course, they are connected, as the body to the brain. And then the mind dances further, since I have begun to know what needs work is the mind body connection, the living shared by both aspects.

And the beat goes on....

Before goodnight, I admit, confess, share my temptation, my impulse to erase this entry. It is too weak, too vulnerable, too naked. And then I answer myself with the notion that this is what I want to write about and how can I make claims to authenticity if I go back to the hiding and erasing. It's too late for that, and anyway my mission if you will, is to make honesty more viable.

Truthfully all the hiding and lying have become just as inconvenient...and so I don't press the delete button.