The Wisdom of Shadows


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My mind is like a river giving birth to itself at final thaw. It’s as if I can hang my curiosity up on an invisible hook and simply observe: the mysterious, the mundane, a silent conversation with the night. Admittedly, I have been both too careful and careless with life. Conversely, I’ve found myself chained by shame, guilt, regrets. I have fruitlessly measured myself against others and measured them against myself.

Each of us, if we’re truly honest, if we peer into the reflecting glass of our souls, might have the good fortune to see who we are and who we might be. It is a brew of madness and light. An antique piece of crystal or glass is only valued at its worth with an obvious chip or crack in it.

What we choose not to hide from ourselves is the angelic force that we sometimes see as demonic. What good does it do to deny or condemn that which pulses through our emotional veins? It makes you, you. It makes me, me. And we are all perfect in the eyes of the Divine, God, Goddess, All-That-Is.

Something has seeded from birth within each of us, small, vulnerable, beyond powerful. Its beauty is cracked and crystallized by time, experience, and hopefully, wisdom. It allows us to quietly sit with the loamiest, deepest parts of ourselves. Cradle these parts, sing sweet lullabies to them. These are parts which may have been denied or made wrong by upbringing, culture, peer influence. They linger outside the door of acceptance, timidly tapping for admittance. Open that door and it offers healing. It may arrive as sweet, silent, squawking, terrified, courageous, uncertain, questing and questioning. But open that door, welcome it, and it returns to you, you return to it.

Say, ‘Welcome, self.’ Those shadows crookedly hung in the dark corners of have great wisdom to share. And always, always with love.

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