Running Away Deepens the Trance
A traditional folk tale tells the story of a man who becomes
so frightened by his own shadow that he tries to run away from it. He believes
that if only he could leave it behind, he would then be happy. The man grows
increasingly distressed as he sees that no matter how fast he runs, his shadow
never once falls behind. Not about to give up, he runs faster and faster until
finally he drops dead of exhaustion. If only he had stepped into the shade and
sat down to rest, his shadow would have vanished.
Our own personal shadow is made up of those parts of our
being that we experience as unacceptable. Our families and culture let us know
early on which qualities of human nature are valued and which are frowned upon.
Because we want to be accepted and loved, we try to fashion and present a self
that will attract others and secure our belonging.
And yet, when we inevitably express our natural aggression
or neediness or fear—parts of our emotional makeup that frequently are taboo—the
significant people in our life tend to react to us. Whether we are mildly
scolded, ignored or traumatically rejected, on some level we are hurt and
pushed away.
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| Photo Credit: Shell Fischer |
The shadow then becomes a force in our psyche as we
regularly exile the emotions that could elicit rejection from others. We might
bury and forget our childlike excitement; ignore our anger until it becomes
knots of tension in our body; cover our fears with endless self-judgment and
blame. Our shadow is rooted in shame, bound by our sense of being basically
defective.
The more deeply we feel flawed and unlovable, the more
desperately we run from the clutches of the shadow. Yet by running from what we
fear, we feed the inner darkness.
Whenever we reject a part of our being, we are confirming to
ourselves our fundamental unworthiness. Underneath “I shouldn’t get so angry”
lies “There’s something wrong with me if I do.” Like being stuck in quicksand,
our frantic efforts to get away from our badness sink us deeper. As we strive
to avoid the shadow, we solidify our identity as a fearful, deficient self.
For many of us, when our
particular place of insecurity or woundedness is touched, we easily regress into the fullness of
trance. At these times there seems to be no choice as to what we feel, think,
say or do. Rather, we "go on automatic," reacting in our most
habitual way to defend ourselves, to cover over the rawness of our hurt.
Yet, the very behaviors we use to keep us from pain only fuel our
suffering. Not only do our escape strategies amplify the feeling that something
is wrong with us, they stop us from attending to the very parts of ourselves
that most need our attention to heal. As Carl Jung states in one of his key
insights, the unfaced and unfelt parts of our
psyche are the source of all neurosis and suffering.
The good news is that when we can
learn to feel and face the fear and shame we habitually avoid with compassion,
wisdom, and courage, we can begin to awaken from trance; we can begin to free
ourselves to respond to our circumstances in ways that bring genuine peace and
happiness.
