Dear readers, below is a letter I wrote to my friend Brittany on our shared substack page. Each week we take turns writing a response to the letter written the week before. If you want to follow along each week, follow this link to see all previous posts and subscribe to get them delivered to your inbox.
Oh Brittany, thank you for your vulnerability in your last letter. There’s something powerful and important about differentiating the parts that are up, in a tangle, and calling out for attention in their own unique ways, and not rushing to “solve the problem”. It’s messy, and riddled with discomfort, and pretending it’s not that or that there is a simple way out is a form of bypass and leads to exiling more of who we are into the shadows. What we turn away from is what our system organizes around, and ultimately becomes what drives us.
You so clearly named the parts that are up and you stayed in contact with them to listen and learn what they are protecting. Brilliant. And then you paused with curiosity as you edged closer towards what has been exiled, what’s behind or beneath these protectors, what are they working tirelessly to avoid? You did here what so many of us do, you played with what it could be by thinking about it and trying on some possibilities. The shadow realm is where we see and feel and understand the depth and history of our protectors, and where we access and make contact with the pure energy of our exiles. And the parts of us that need and want order, to know, to be one step ahead, to think and have access to coherent cognition, well, they deserve and need our respect and admiration as we invite them to stand down and wait at the gate as we venture deeper.
You asked some amazing questions at the end of your letter, and that’s where I want to go next. In regards to shadow work, to dropping into the dark night of the soul, you asked:
How can we give space and recognition to real pain and uncertainty without being swallowed up by it? How can we rise from the dark night without just slapping a happy face sticker on it? Is it possible to even (dare I say) revel in it for a while, and learn how to approach it differently?
Ooooh boy those are delicious questions. So real, so visceral, so relatable. As I sit with these questions and even contemplate “exploring” or “answering” them from my perspective, my system pauses as I revel in the wisdom that these questions already offer. These questions give form to edges and outlines of what is seen, which is also illuminating what is unseen. Some questions are full of so much more information than we may even realize. These questions are guideposts, lamps in the dark, and trailheads to get to know your shadow.
You asked what you may have exiled? Perhaps there is the fear and lived experience of being swallowed by unbearable pain and uncertainty. Perhaps there is intense loneliness that has learned to create connection and security by putting a happy face sticker on what has not been previously met and held and welcomed in its messiness, in its frown. So, how do we revel in this, allow it, open to it, and approach it differently? First of all, you already are doing that. Notice what already feels different, how far you have come. Revel there for a while. Your system is like a flower that slowly unfolds and opens to the light of the sun. It’s intelligent, and doesn’t need to learn how, it actually needs to surrender into trust, one petal at a time, until the whole flower can pulsate and merge with the rhythm of nature.
I was taken over by a pretty strong protector yesterday. Here is a blurb from my journal (with some interpersonal details edited out):
“I’m blended with a part. Self is here, but waving in and out from the intensity of this part and what it is tangled in. Boundaries are needed and clarity for the highest good, and a part of me feels pressure to figure it out now, and I also feel tired of analyzing and figuring it out. And this feels important. Another part of me wants to maintain control, and another part of me judges that and wants to look away from the shame that brings up. A part of me now is feeling overwhelmed by all of this.”
Here is where I surrendered fully and dropped into raw emotion as it flowed. I felt and expressed fear, I cried, I cried out for support and help. I had memories roll in from moments in my youth that have deep imprints in my being, and I felt them fully. It was messy. There were waves of pain and discomfort. There were moments of peace and clarity in between bouts of emotion. And, I was present and allowing and grateful for it all as it was happening.
For me there is a visual that for some reason feels helpful in all of this. I imagine a neuron firing, and when it is unmyelinated it is less efficient, it requires more energy, and is slow. It’s alone.
When I drop into pure emotion, the shadow realm emerges and I am in contact with neurons firing. I imagine my presence, my Higher Self as the myelin. Already there is the sense of a relationship, of not being alone in what previously had felt isolated in fear and pain that was overwhelming. My presence is like a warm hug as the myelin coats the neuron and allows for a more efficient process and far less efforting. It’s not a doing, or a fixing, it’s a presence.
It’s trust, it’s contacting, and allowing. And every time I do this, I come out the other end feeling more rooted, more loved, more human, more humble, and exponentially stronger. It’s all quite paradoxical. Somehow, by truly opening and dropping into what I fear the most (or, in other words, what parts of me fear the most), I access more light and love. The shadow realm is like the sewer system that is right below the foundation of this house we call our being. And if we are not willing and able to drop down into the sewer and tend to what is there, it festers, it attracts rodents, and it slowly erodes and corrodes the foundation. If all we do is hang out above ground and renovate the house, eventually it will crumble, and the dark night of the soul feels earth shattering. So instead, I suggest daily and monthly maintenance in the sewer. It’s humbling, and you catch what work is needed far before it takes your house down.
This leaves me curious Brittany, what wants to happen next? What happens inside of you as you sit with these words, and visuals, and possibilities? I enjoyed the emergence of this sewer analogy, and will be exploring this for the next little while. I already am thinking about how treasures can get lost down the drain, or the surprising gifts we might find when we are sifting through mud. When I drop down and surrender to the tangles stored in my shadow, I always come out the other side with access to something I lost long ago. I wonder what gifts you will find down there?