On Sharing Shadow
I experienced quite a cruelty a few months ago. Brought down upon me by a person I had trusted, a person I had sought counsel from; a person I had loved. A teacher. My ancestors who I trust beyond measure, warned me. They said I was to gently and swiftly hand those I was caring for and companioning into the hands of others who would continue to companion and care for them. I felt the protection of my ancestors and I did not heed their call in the ways they asked of me. I tried to negotiate. Days and days of negotiation as I was taught to do. And, as I have learned, I will never do again. At the time I could not see it, their desire for separation from a paradigm that was confused and fabricated, rather than clear and natural. They desired I walk a path aligned with the trees and stars, the storms and the seas; one of beauty, wildness and unyielding compassion and kindness. A path of deep integrity.
I offer this in the spirit of sharing darkness. Not the darkness born from the deep Earth, the vast wilds of the cosmos, or the longest night of the year; the darkness born from the wounds that fester within a human heart. It’s important to share darkness, to share shadow, so I have learned. We all hold it. We all have been wielded by our wounded shadow parts, clutching at us, convincing us to do and say harmful things. We’ve also all been subject to forces beyond ourselves highjacking us, getting inside our heads, undertaking harm. What is so remarkable about our human walk, the revelation that is life, is that we are also offered the opportunity to face our shadows, to tend and transmute them; and to ask whether it really is us, and ours to bear. And whether it is not.
It is my long-held and unwavering belief that cruelty brought down upon another is an abomination. An abomination. It happens all the time and it happens for myriad reasons. For the sake of this writing, for the sake of sharing the cruelty I experienced, I cannot say definitively what the origin of the darkness is within the person who attacked me. She was my teacher. She was screaming at me, lashing and vicious words sent like arrows my way very much intended to harm. She would not stop until I broke down and wept to the point of no breath, which took me a while because I was in true and utter disbelief at this behavior. I was seeking to have an exploratory dialogue and she was determined to harm. It was abuse, plain and simple.
Spiritual abuse is pervasive and it is serious. Over the past few years many who claim the title of ‘spiritual teacher’ have been exposed, their cruelty aired publicly, their victims offered solace and safety to share their experiences in the hopes of healing and stemming the shadow tides. This pattern of behavior by the teacher I was working with is known. Close and dear friends experienced it, and as I have learned, so have others. Many others. I’m not sure why I thought I would avoid it, I suppose ‘the teachings’ are what I focused on, and I willingly ignored what I witnessed. I can now safely say that as a survivor of the terrors of spiritual abuse I will never, ever, treat another the way I was treated by this person. The shadow untended is a remarkable thing to witness and what I experienced during that horrific morning was abuse, designed to harm. Such a sadness to witness. Such a sadness to experience.
My heart breaks over and over for humanity. For any who feel they have the right or authority to be cruel to another, to seek conflict, and to intentionally harm. Even for this former teacher, my heart breaks for her. The paradigm she works within is restrictive, narrow-minded and punitive, these teachings are sanitizing spirit in a way that is actively contrary to the pure beauty of the wilds of the natural world, and the wilds of the untamed and sovereign hearts of spirit. Spirit does not offer us a single prescription for healing; we are offered myriad paths, as we are myriad beings. Nature herself is infinite in her kindness and in companionship with the natural world I have seen that we can discover our own unique pathways of wellness and inspiration. They do require work, they do require commitment, and they do offer us the freedom that we have been seeking all while honoring our sovereign birthrights. What a miracle that is. If there is one thing I am sure of it is that the sanitization of spirit only perpetuates harm and the structures of power and abuse that I have been committed to dismantling my whole life. Wild does not mean reckless - wild means undomesticated, unconditioned, and free. I see myself like a giant kelp, or the gnarled ancient oak, or a meadow of wild-flowers and grasses, swaying gently below a sky of stars. I see her teachings as a finely manicured topiary - beautiful and seductive, held tightly, controlled, pruned into forced shapes, and never allowed to be free to grow into the fullness of its being. Goddess forbid you sprout a leaf that seeks to grow its own way… snap go the shears of control, sharpened on a wheel of fear.
I’d like to embrace an alternative way of living. One of love and respect, honor and care.
My journey is now, and will continue to be, one of inner decolonization while claiming the fullness of my being back from anyone or anything that would seek to lay claim and control over me. I lovingly invite you to join me. May our journey be that of the forest, that of the tree, that of the fungi, that of the Earth. May our journey be that of the krill and the cormorant, the mantis and the manatee.
I belong to the unheard Earth, not its humans I’m afraid, and far after our species has ended, this beautiful world will live on. When our home star cools, or consumes this blessing of a planet, my spirit will sing its death song - an ode to the miracles that were dreamed into being here. There are those who will sing for humanity. I will sing for all else.
Sharing of challenging experiences is uncomfortable, to be sure. It is murky. It is sticky and vulnerable and important. I do not share the name of this person because I do not feel safe to do so. I can not trust that she would not seek to harm me, or those that are close to me.
Ever with care and love on the journey, I sing your song of freedom. May your roots break free and find their way beyond the confines of your pots and fences. May your garden grow wild stretching far and wide, welcomed by an infinite sky.
Thank you for reading this.
h. x
Hark to the Wind of the World
- Grace Fallow Norton, December 1915
HARK to the wind of the world!
The shafts of my life are far-hurled—
I cannot belong to you!…
I belong to the cataract, leaping;
I belong to the west-wind, weeping;
I belong to the white swan, sleeping;
I belong to the wild curlew!
Away! I say it must end!
Call me not, call me not friend—
I am false for I must be true!
I belong to the cedar, swinging;
I belong to the silence, ringing;
I belong to the noon-sun, singing
Where the singing god-reed grew.
Go further, further away!
I will walk with you yet, some day,
But I will not belong to you.
I belong to the eagle, flying;
I belong to the sea-tide, sighing;
I belong to the wilderness, crying;
I belong to dawn and the dew!