Skip to main content

Shadow Love









Shadow Love


"The lady doth protest too much, methinks."
--From Hamlet (III, ii, 239)

The shadow is the part of you you hate – it’s the part of you that you say could never be a part of you. It’s what you fear the most, the living demon, the driver of the tank that your thoughts and actions are always trying to stomp on from the turret.


It’s the piece of you that got split off early in childhood – cleaved off without words by senses that either misunderstood, or pretzel logic consequences from behavior and then
fit it together with malformed images sensed not thought.


A smell that came before the burning, a loud shout that preceded the fall – irritable parents neglect and strange faces that scared you in childhood’s circus mirrors.


Things that happen before words can only be understood without words. A mother’s slap for bad that leads to banishment, or the hiding of a behavior. A father’s neglect following a childish mistake that embarrasses him in front of his boss, which leads to a kangaroo court of competing Id’s to make an example of some part of you creative,yet inappropriate.
Socialization that sets the pale with limits that make part of you unacceptable and need to be rubbed out. These are things that can’t be talked out with therapists and friends – they need to be accepted as a part of
you.


Things that your internal voices have chosen to place outside your personal pale are still apart of you. Like dark matter and energy, it still adds bulk and movement to your thoughts and actions – you just see out of the corner of your eye, if at
all.
The funny part of the shadow is that the parts of you that get walled off are usually not that bad –but by splitting them to keep them from exploding when accidentally bumped into,they shape the way you walk through life, making psychological hunchbacks that
others see but can’t name with words.And if they can't be worked on internally -- they learn to wrestle in the public arena -- real life.


As you get older,society and loved ones beat unacceptable behaviors out of you. This is done with emotions and stuff – but usually you can see an external logic that you can talk through with others. The older stuff is the shadow stuff – and because you learned it without words, you can only see it without words and reason –
that’s the problem with trying to integrate it with the rest of you.


The horror of yourself you see in the shadows is something you spend your whole life running away from. You run so fast, you never get a chance to look back over your shoulder
to see just exactly what it is that is chasing you. 


When you see in another something you hate instinctively – that part of your shadow. When the same problem comes to you over and over in different forms – that’s part of your shadow. When you do self destructive things to sabotage your life – that’s
your shadow.
Your shadow can’t be reasoned with or bribed – it can only be accepted, and if a true deformity of
the soul, worked with in the loving arms of self.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Wedding and Funeral

Went to a wedding and a funeral this weekend with Mary. Sacramento, Santa Rosa, then home– a whirlwind trip through weekend bay area traffic. The traffic was horrible – life changing horrible, but not unusual.
As with most things, it’s a balance of an the unnamed terror and an easy chair in a padded room that rocks. 
The wedding was delightful, part of an interconnected strong woman’s club that marries off their daughters to provably weaker men. And so, the cycle continues, but the company was nice and I’m too old to wonder at the process anymore.
The funeral was for another interconnected strong woman, who, by hinkey or dinky, was a scary woman that I used to work with as a nurse. She would have been surprised that I outlived her, much as Charles the cat was. Please pay attention out there – this is how life works.
(To be fair, she didn’t put up with shit and I liked to throw handfuls of it around as if I were Christ standing on the back of a broken piƱata heaving candy cigarettes to the…

Only once

For clarity, I think I will write this only once.I do not write confessional poetry, and I do not write things down as a form of therapy. I write because I have something unique to say in a unique sort of way, a way that I think is universal in an analogous manner, not as any sort of literal telling of the truth.  I trowel spackle onto pages with a straight edged blade, I don’t paint aging widows with a brush. (My soul has been psychedelicized, but this shit’s not about me.)It comes in this form – that this relates to that, in this way – A form that I think illustrates things that are too true to be looked at straight on – personal truths that are usually discovered through interactions with other people – truths that are often relational, unreliable and subject to the weavings and debris of human beings. Truths that sneak out and become a miraculous surprise of insight – like a Zen master hitting you on the head with a baseball bat at just the right time.I don’t think I’m the only on…

Jingo is as Jingo does

After I avoided watching that Zany new program, ‘Homeland’ on TV today, I told Mary:
“Someday when we as a nation are down and out and struggling for a bit of understanding and mercy our new overlords will pull out a show like Homeland and say, “this is when you had a chance to change things.”
The things that we do, and the attitudes we take while doing them, will all be used against us on the way down, and everyone goes down eventually. The barbarians will have their scribes repeat our own words to us and then say them out loud to our children as they do the things to us that we have done to them.
We are so powerful that we cannot see anything from anyone else’s point of view, and if we could, it would hold no value to us. Just as we now think that one American life is worth 60 Iraqis, our eventual fall will reflect a different changing math game of attitudes that our educational system has ill prepared us for. We will also become confused because all the words coming out of their m…