Searching in the Shadows
Jungian therapists Connie Zweig and Steve Wolf describe shadow work as a path to deeper moral integrity and intimacy with our own soul.
For most people … greater shadow awareness can lead to greater morality. In fact, Carl Jung, who coined the term “shadow,” posed it as a moral problem. He suggested that we need a reorientation or fundamental change of attitude, a metanoia, to look it squarely in the eyes—that is, our own eyes:
The individual who wishes to have an answer to the problem of evil … has need, first and foremost, of self-knowledge, that is, the utmost possible knowledge of their own wholeness. They must know relentlessly how much good they can do, and what crimes they are capable of, and must beware of regarding the one as real and the other as illusion. Both are elements within their nature, and both are bound to come to light in them, should they wish—as they ought—to live without self-deception or self-delusion. [1]
This idea—that to face the best and the worst in our own natures is to live an authentic life—is not new. Theologians and philosophers in many traditions have pointed to the hidden reality of our split nature, and its secret value…. Russian writer Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn put it beautifully: “If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?” [2]
Zweig and Wolf suggest we search for answers in the mystery of what we have placed in the shadow:
Throughout human history, wise women and men, in their own ways, have understood the old Sufi parable of the person who looks for the key under the lamppost because that’s where the light is, but it’s not where the key was dropped, which is in the darkness.
Looking into the darkness or living with shadow awareness is not an easy path…. Rather, to live with shadow awareness we follow the detours; we walk into the debris, groping our way through dark corridors and past dead ends. We look for the key where it is difficult to find. Shadow-work asks us to turn in that direction.
It asks us to stop blaming others.
It asks us to take responsibility.
It asks us to move slowly.
It asks us to deepen awareness.
It asks us to hold paradox.
It asks us to open our hearts.
It asks us to sacrifice our ideals of perfection.
It asks us to live the mystery.
We suggest that you relate to the shadow as a mystery, rather than as a problem to be solved or an illness to be cured. When the Other arrives, honor that part of yourself as a guest. You may discover that it comes bearing gifts. You may discover that shadow-work is, indeed, soul work.
May 27
Written By Andrew Lang
This past weekend, our kids visited their biological dad’s house for the first time in over two years.
For the sake of privacy, I won’t share many of the details, but you can probably guess: it was a big change. For them, for their biological dad, for my partner and I, for our community around us. Even our dogs, nonplussed for the most part, probably smelled the shift in the air.
And this morning as I sit to write this, I keep coming back to the same words:
We don’t always create change; change creates us.
I’m far more comfortable with the experience of being in control and using my agency and imagination to develop something new from the old. But most change just happens, entirely regardless of our desire for it. A car merges wildly into our lane and we have to adapt; an illness is discovered and we’re faced with what to do; the President sets a new horrific policy and we’re challenged with how to respond.
Change tends to require us to shape ourselves around its presence.
For my kiddos, this meant being a lot more tender in the lead-up to their visit. More big emotions, more questions, more worries, more long hugs seemingly out of the blue. For my partner and I, it meant leaning into the logistics: how to best prepare them, how to prepare their biological dad to have success, how to make sure our home held them with love and care beforehand and after. And of course, feeling our own big emotions as well.
And as it often goes when change happens, I’ll be processing this newfound reality for quite awhile.
The newness of change and what it unearths in us and around us lingers. This is part of why I think it’s so important to stay gentle with ourselves and what we believe the outcome of any change “should be.” The truth is, I don’t know what comes next – but I trust in my family’s capacity to meet it and hold the messiness of it without losing the center we’ve come to know.
So that’s my invitation for you this week:
Whatever change you find yourself navigating, how can you meet it with gentleness and intentionality? What might become possible if you trust in your capacity to hold the change and to shift with it, while staying true to your center?
