February 2, 2017
It is Groundhog Day. A day when Punxsutawney Phil glimpses (or doesn’t) his shadow and we are graced with either more winter weather, or an early spring.
I have been thinking a lot about the notion of Shadow. In Jungian psychology, the shadow self is the underbelly of our subconscious. It is all which we have denied or repressed of our whole selves in order to comply with the demands of living the lives into which we are born. Shadow can be perceived as the dark side of self. The bits we do not talk about. To generalize, for many men this might mean the traditionally ‘non-masculine’ traits such as tenderness or being emotionally open in a way that is vulnerable. For women, Shadow could manifest as repressed rage, as it is not ‘feminine’ to be angry, yes? Another way to look at Shadow comes from the definition which analyst Marie Von Franz settles upon, “…in the first stage of approach to the unconscious, the shadow is simply a ‘mythological’ name for all that within me of which I cannot directly know.” It may very well be a side of ourselves that we don’t necessarily want to know, but need to. And therefore, we may project that very self onto others, as a way of protecting ourselves from ourselves, by making the ‘other’ into what we find most undesirable.
The United States is currently weathering a dark night of the soul, grappling with it’s shadowed social underbelly. Robert Bly called the Shadow “the long bag we drag behind us.” We as a country carry a bag behind us full of difficult history built at times upon the backs of the oppressed. These are things with which we must grapple if we are to move forward. So much of the rhetoric we are hearing from those who voted for Trump is based upon changes these voters do not want to see in ‘their’ country. More power being doled out equally to women, people of color, those with different faiths or those hard wired to love differently than themselves. Perhaps those belittling protesters in the recent women’s marches are afraid of the necessary conversations we must have about how women are not, really, equal to men. It is interesting to me that we can elect a president who belittles and objectifies women (and the disabled and, and, and) and yet some are worried that the pink ‘pussy hats’ are vulgar. I think they are brilliant. A genius way to turn the conversation around. And maybe a lesson in the power of words.
I for one am trying, a little each day, to understand how we got here – to this place of being the butt of the joke to the rest of the world.
I have not yet found a balance which feels healthy. That said, we as a country are not healthy. This is not normal. This is not business as usual. And I will not keep quiet.
— Alma Har'el (@Almaharel) January 21, 2017
I have seen our country’s shadow. I am not afraid.
*Update: I wrote this post last week when the drawings first came to mind, just to have it ready to post when a busy week ensued. I knew that the pace of things in Washington might make parts of this post nearly obsolete by the time Groundhog Day actually arrived. I was right. The March for Women and the pink hats seem like decades ago. We now have a ban on folks entering our country if they fit a certain mold (you know, like say, of the Muslim faith, or from certain countries – none of whom have ever harmed us!!) Our Shadow side keeps rearing its ugly (Bigly!) head and yet the people keep rising up in protest which fills me with great hope. I believe we can keep this up. This protesting. Much like runners who pass a baton between the long legs of a race. A race for democracy and human goodness itself. We can do this. Resting when needed. Taking the baton when we can. I am so very proud of this country just now. No, not it’s leadership. It’s people. The lawyers working pro-bono to help those trapped in the new system. The protesters. The Air B&B folks offering free lodging to anyone stranded. I am proud of politicians willing to stand up against this madness who are coming from both sides of the proverbial aisle. I am proud of the world who is hopefully not judging all Americans on the actions of a few in power. I have hope and faith as we incorporate the Shadow. In a recent post on another harbinger of Spring, Imbolc, a friend of mine and I were reminded of and discussed how in spite of spring coming along, there is often a brutal, late-winter snow storm that bites at the new lambs and plant sprouts and bends us once again to the final bits of cold and darkness of winter. But eventually, Spring comes. Perhaps Donald Trump is a late storm like this. Blustering and biting at the new lambs of social kindness and inclusion that the world is striving to achieve. We must maintain hope and vigilance.