Part II: The Gold in the Shadow

As I said in my first piece about shadow, there's gold in there. It is precisely because of that gold that we must go mining in the caves of shadow. But let me explain how shadow develops in the first place.

At birth, each of us possesses a full range of human qualities. These qualities start out neutral. But as we grow, influential people in our lives (like parents, teachers, and peers) point out qualities they dislike, and label them "bad." In a desire to be loved and accepted we react. We take those "bad" qualities, and one by one, excise them from our personalities.

What do we do with those cut off parts of self? As Robert Bly says, we throw them into a "long bag." With unsightly aspects of ourselves safely tucked away, we go on, seemingly scrubbed clean of our bad traits. Problem is, we continue to lug that long shadow bag and all its contents around with us. The trash man never comes to cart it off to the dump.

Furthermore, each time we throw something into the bag, really good stuff goes too. Examples. You are four years old. Your mom is at the kitchen table having coffee with her friends. You keep interrupting. Later she punishes you for being rude. Out comes your shadow bag, and you toss in rudeness. Along with it goes some spontaneity.

You're in the fifth grade and your teacher scolds you for clowning around. You get angry and get sent to the principal's office. You open the bag, toss in anger, and along with it, some passion and humor.

To sum it up, by the time we hit age twenty, we've gone from being a full circle of possibilities to being just a sliver of our potential selves. We've dumbed ourselves down. We've learned to color within the lines of life.

As adults we have two choices. One is to deny that we've thrown anything into the bag (even deny the existence of the bag itself). Or we can go into the bag and retrieve the gold we've thrown away.

Most of us are afraid to stick our hand in that bag. We don't know what might bite us. It is truly an act of courage to do so. But the alternative is leaving great chunks of ourselves languishing in the dark. Even worse: what we deny about ourselves we inflict on others. (More on that next time.)

Meanwhile, consider what parts of you you might have thrown away, thinking they were bad. And rejoice. There's great beauty in the shadow.


copyright 2007 starfishdoc
(Thanks, JMR for the first photo.)

My Kind of Christmas

I don't make a big deal of Christmas, which may cause you to think I have a humbug problem. I don't. I'm just saddened to see how stressed folks get during holiday time. And for what?

I have abandoned all the empty rituals that have nothing to do with the spirit of Christmas. Shopping has been whittled down to a single present: a Secret Santa exchange we do as a family. I do not put up a Christmas tree or other decorations. D and I turn down most holiday party invitations.

This simplification of Christmas has been a process. There was a time when I did it all, including sending out hundreds of Christmas cards. It takes some getting used to, this counter culture adjustment. So I'm not recommending you go whole turkey, so to speak. But I'm convinced that you would be happier and calmer this Christmas if you dropped one or more of your usual holiday chores.

Thinking about all the things I don't do for Christmas, got me feeling like the Grinch on a bad day, until I noticed what I was doing when I had that thought. I was in the middle of making pizzelles. These little waffle cookies are an Italian tradition passed down to me from my grandmother. Even my mother, who was French Canadian, had to learn to make them to earn her stripes (make her bones?) in our family. I have been making them every year since I don't remember when. It's written in the DNA.

Pizzelles take all day to make. You can only cook them two or three at a time, depending on your waffle iron. It's an intense process, too. They take only a minute to cook. Without constant vigilance, they'll burn. Unlike baking a cake, you can't put them in the oven and walk away. Pizzelles are a labor of love.

So Sunday was designated pizzelle day. I started around 9am and finished at 6pm. The task spilled over to Monday morning, when I sprinkled on the powdered sugar and packaged them in cellophane and ribbon to give away to our friends over the next few weeks.

All this leads me to the conclusion that there are traditions that really matter to us. But there are probably many more things we get caught up in that we only do because we think it's expected. I suggest you try separating what really matters, from what doesn't and just do the former. For me, that's making pizzelles.

copyright 2007 starfishdoc