“Ged had neither lost nor won but, naming the shadow of his death with his own name, had made himself whole: a man: who, knowing his whole true self, cannot be used or possessed by any power other than himself, and whose life therefore is lived for life's sake and never in the service of ruin, or pain, or hatred, or the dark.”
Over the last few years, I have come to the rather humbling realisation that I can’t out-run my shadow. Seems obvious now that I have just written it down. But there it is. It’s as though, despite my best efforts, I forget I have one. And my blindness has gifted it more darkness, and in turn, power. As Carl Jung puts it…
“Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is. At all counts, it forms an unconscious snag, thwarting our most well-meant intentions.”
Like the young mage Ged, in Ursula Le Guin’s A Wizard of Earthsea, I have been advised, rather wisely, to turn around, walk towards it, and name it.
As a boy, Ged displays great power on the island of Gont, and is sent away to the school of wizardry, where his prickly and proud nature drives him into conflict with one of his fellows. During a magical duel, Ged casts a spell intended to raise the spirit of a legendary dead woman. The spell goes awry and releases a shadow creature that attacks him and scars his face. The Archmage Nemmerle drives the shadow away, but at the cost of his own life. Ged spends many months healing before resuming his studies. The new Archmage, Gensher, describes the shadow as an ancient evil that wishes to possess Ged, and warns him that the creature has no name. An important aspect of the magical system in this world is being able to correctly name something. After leaving the school and trying to protect folk from a dragon, through discovering its names, Ged is chased by the dark shadow creature. He flies back to Ogion, the mage who correctly named him Ged, on Gont. Unlike Gensher, Ogion insists that all creatures have a name and advises Ged to confront the shadow. He does, eventually naming it with his own name, and merges with it, joyfully telling his friend that he is healed and whole.
In an earlier post about Gollum, I explore the shadow – see here – and what I’ve come to realise, rather slowly, and often with much humiliation: it won’t go away. It can’t be defeated in one (or two, or three) grand gestures or postures. It must be lived with. For me, as I look back over my shoulder, I see clear patterns in my wake; countless attempts to conquer my dark side with big ideas and extraordinary action. And despite various insights and victories, these forces don’t seem to disappear. As Jungian analyst James Hollis writes in Living an Examined Life:
“Life’s two biggest threats we carry within: fear and lethargy… Those perverse twins munch on our souls every day. No matter what we do today, they will turn up again tomorrow. Over time, they usurp more days of our lives than those to which we may lay fair claim.”
Facing and naming the shadow is daily practice. This is the uncomfortable yet liberating truth I have come to accept (until the next time I forget, which will be sooner than I’d like to admit). It’s not in big career changes, grand plans and dramatic moves, but in greeting and naming my ‘fear and lethargy’ each day with courage and discipline. But perhaps their daily presence is just what my soul needs to flourish and thrive; and not the escape to Priesthood, which I love to fantasise about (each to their own!); imagining that such a packaged-deal-vocation would solve all my problems.
Instead, I’ll follow Ged, and walk towards the dark side of myself and away from the idealised persona I like to imagine. As Jung writes in The Philosophical Tree:
‘One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.’
And so today I choose to say, ‘good morning Fear, good morning Lethargy, thank you for being in me, and for giving me another opportunity to grow, overcome and integrate. To become whole.’ And I shall try to remember, at the end of the day, to say, ‘night night, see you in the morning!’
Yes, that's the one I started with. Then moving on to Finding Meaning in the seconds half of life, which I think is a republish of the one you mention. I then read In search of the magical other. All wonderful and helped me through a specific time.
Hi robin. Lucy Calvert here. I enjoy all your writings. My ears pricked up at James Hollis. Have read a few of his this year. Do you have a particular favourite?