shadow work - buried treasure

reminded in reading ILP kit developer, paul salamone's blog, that it ain't necessarily the “worst” about us that we relegate to our “black bags.”  indeed, for some, it is the “very best” about ourselves that we bind and gag and consign into exile.

a quote:

” The shadow is both the awful thing that needs redemption,
and the suffering redeemer who can provide it”

~ Liz Green

i commented to paul that, 'for me, the shiniest, glittering nugget of the kit and its tools is Diane Musho Hamilton's “3-2-1 process” or shadow module.  yum!  what is it?!' [i don't have the kit, but have pressed my nose to the glass]

today, i'm tracking down Diane and hoping to get a closer look at her work.  and i'm also reminded of and wondering what Connie Zweig is up to.



for myself, two recent encounters with my own shadow, both here at zaadz, come to mind.

in the first couple of days after i signed on here, i "reached out" in a simple, social experiment of saying, "just hello," to other zaadzsters.  and in writing to ocean (and this is clearly no reflection on him -- just me wading through my shit), i got all weird and stilted and awkward in the few, brief things i said in a "just hello" note to him.  this was an encounter with my own psyche and, again, nothing, really, to do with this man -- which makes the whole thing feel all the weirder -- all the more proof that this was an encounter with my own shadow.

boiled down, i felt embarrassed addressing someone i perceived as "rich" -- in this instance, someone rich in functionality -- while feeling flushed and hot and bothered about my own poverty -- my own  "poor" functionality.  it seems, too, this was exacerbated by my own feeling of loss and emptiness (certainly some anger, too) about my own youth -- like, "here's this young, smart guy, doing things."  me, i was young and smart once, but have been broken and non-functioning or poorly functioning so much of my life.

here's the can of worms, itself:


        you are some serious neuro-naut, or somethin'


        hello ocean,

        i am new to zaadz.  i'm mingling and introducing myself.

        entered stan grof as a “loves” search term here, and your name and icon
        poppped up (along with ricky barnes & sensei).

        told sensei:

        i've got a pretty good sized heap of emotional wreakage and baggage
        i continue to drag around. (working on it.)  i've got a not-half-assed-bad head
        on my shoulders. and, i've rung a few of the bells up along the higher states of
        consciousness ladder.

        i am one of but a few, like yourself, avowed friends/fans here at zaadz of
        dr.stanislav grof.

        more breathwork – definitely more breathwork – is one of my goals.

        sensei seems maybe just a bit more approachable, and rowdy enough to
         wrestle around with me a bit. 

        you sir!  man!  i am just a screeching, whining baby, scarcely out of the
        cradle, while you're in a rocket you've built yourself and out exploring beyond
        the moon!

        kudos, friend.  i applaud your work, your sadhana, your exceptional functionality.

        i'm backing out of here.

        it is a pleasure and an honor to meet you.

        namaste,
        rhobherto


ocean, to his credit perhaps, did not reply to this instance of my shadow boxing landing in his mail box.  [sensei, btw, perhaps to his credit, as well, did not bite either]  my sincerest apologies to ocean -- peace be upon him -- for my weirdness.


another instance, a bit more poignant and longstanding, has to do with an individual whom i have encountered over time, literally and simply, as a divine-human (a smart, vulnerable, female wilberite. a savvy female wilberite -- how extraordinary is that! very extraordinary to me, and i was a "goofy," yapping little dog nipping at her heels for a time. "hey spike!").  by simply "regarding" this person, seeing their likeness, or in reading their blog, something wonderful  poured into my life. 

again, here is this slice of my 360-degee life from which i am often cut off.  in the working map or mythology of my own psyche, the window to the divine is typically obscured. 

oh sure!  the divine can enter the world through him or her or them -- through a magnificent natural vista -- through the poem of a mystic -- through a savvy female wilberite . . .  but through me?!  from somewhere in here?!  no way!

this particular instance of "projection," too, was cause for some weirdness:



even the act of "owning it" and "reaching out" to confess one's errancy -- as i've attempted to do, in these instances -- "hey, i've been kind of neurotic in the way i've approached you" -- remains, largely, an encounter (healing though it may be) with oneself. 

like, "gee, i'm so glad you're past that.  good for you.  but when are you going to encounter me and the world as it is -- embracing, honoring, and loving us, as we are -- instead of simply confronting your own assumptions and projections."

i'm workin' on it.  in the interim, my sincere apologies to these innocent bystanders, and to anyone and everyone (gurus, shrinks, lovers, friends, strangers) who has been subject to this somewhat distorted ("save me -- love me -- fix me -- cause only YOU have that power") affection, across all the years.