This felt as much as a book about psychology as much as it was theology. In summary, the book tells you to embrace both your good qualities and your negative, undesired aspects you have pushed into your unconscious to prevent them from reappearing. It proposes that we cannot escape from our `shadow`, so we must learn to live with it and satisfy it, while staying out of reach from the negative consequences it may invoke.
Frankly, the book says nothing new, but I enjoyed it nevertheless, because it provokes self reflection. Although a lot of the metaphors came from a religious/spiritual place, leaving a very bitter taste in my mouth, some of the allegories reminded me of my own experiences, so I could draw meaning from them and they served some purpose. This is why, despite the theological elements and stories which are used to put the idea across, I still finished the book.
The last part, however, was pretty unimportant to me, despite the author speaking of the mandorla as if it were the culmination of the book. It was very abstract, the mandorla and its symbolism were explained, but nothing of substantial value (for me, at least) was mentioned. Because the author has interest in spirituality, though, I assume that it was not as abstract to him as it was to me, so if you are into such things, maybe you are not going to judge it so harshly.Nevertheless, it still wasn't enough to ruin the rest of the book for me.
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I find this quotation especially true. At first I expected the shadow to be comprised of only the negative, but I was pleasantly surprised to read it was simply a representation of the unconscious. After all, we also come to suppress a lot of qualities which are not inherently bad, but just inappropriate for the current company, or in a more general case - culture. In another place (or solitude) they may be our main source of creativity. Disturbing and unpleasant feelings and images often invoke my imagination to the fullest, but I wouldn't normally bring them up in a casual conversation.
I was also delighted to see the relation the author brings up between the shadow and creativity, perhaps because his opinions greatly resemble my own. This quotation concerning the makes up for a great summary of the general idea:
Whenever we pluck the fruit of creativity from the golden tree our other hand plucks the fruit of destruction. ... We would love to have creativity without destruction, but that is not possible.
Truly by creating do we partially destroy ourselves in the painstaking and long process. Even stronger is the pain we feel when left dissatisfied with the result. But how sweet the joy is when we both manage to finish a project and delight in its realization.The reflections the book provoked in my were focused mostly on the creative process, overachieving and personal relationships, as my worst moments could be interpreted as a shadow that has been docile for too long. But how has it come to this? The moment I become too fixated on being objectively good, in every possible way of perception, is when my hyperfixations of 'bettering' myself began. In an attempt to fulfill this idealized version of me, I push everything I deem 'bad' or undesirable into the unconscious. This sometimes creates the illusion that I have got rid of it, but it is still there preying on my vulnerable state to show up again, devour me whole, shift the seesaw and restart the process. So the following arises: how do I rid myself of these undesirable qualities for good, if simple habits and self discipline prove insufficient? Honorable mention, whenever I indulge in my shadow, I get to act silly, ridiculous, refreshed and invigorated. Dipping my toes gives me a lot of artistic inspiration, but sometimes I overindulge and become yet again numb. The art of creation does lead to some inner destruction, but the aftermath is often more satisfying than the damage. If I do not crumble to dust in the process some day, it shall be my biggest pleasure to repeat it again and again if only for a chance of achieving the artistic redemption I so desperately long for.
I thought that my sometimes manic episodes were random quirks that are inevitable in my life - turns out there is some truth to that. For one, they are not all that random and come up whenever I need to "pay" for the neglect I have shown to my shadow. Studying for 10 hours straight after failing to focus the previous weeks sometimes resulted in self harm in the form of biting, aggressive thoughts, sinking my nails in my skin, etc. Of course this form of auto aggression is undesired and needs to be redirected. What proved helpful was tearing a piece of paper to pieces as tiny as possible. Another question arises: Why am I comfortable with expressing this aggression towards myself or towards my closest people in the form of imaginary scenario? Well, I believe it again has to do with the shadow: as I subconsciously view my closest people as an extension of myself, I sometimes fail to differentiate them from me. I am also unconsciously okay with harming myself, because I don't like bothering distant people and doing something that affects me negatively will not necessarily affect negatively the other person. Not everyone is like this, but by trying to spare others (by others I mean people not close to me) an uncomfortable situation (because not burdening others feels like the "right" part of the seesaw), I load more burden on the shadowy part and eventually grow weary of suppressing it all. This has the negative effect of involuntarily thinking the worst of my closest people (and myself) who time and time again have reassured me that my concerns are only imaginary. Sometimes though this undeserved resentment remains within me and I am afraid that I might snap to someone innocent I hold dearly.