Embracing the Shadow
By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar
Shadows are always with us, trailing behind or stretching ahead. They’re not just the dark shapes that form when something blocks the light they carry deeper meaning. They’re reflections of who we are, shaped by our movements, our stance, and where we stand in relation to the light that shines around us.
At a glance, shadows seem simple: light gets interrupted, and bam, there it is a dark patch. But look closer, and you’ll see shadows have a story to tell. They’re the contrast, the balance to all the brightness in our lives. Without them, the light wouldn’t seem so powerful. The two go hand in hand, inseparable, like the highs and lows of life.
And here’s the thing shadows don’t play games. They don’t lie. The brighter the light you stand in, the sharper the shadow you’ll cast. It’s almost poetic, really. The more we grow, the more we shine, the more our flaws, fears, and baggage stand out. It’s like the shadows are daring us to notice them, to stop pretending they aren’t there.
I remember one evening when the sun was dipping low, stretching shadows long and thin. Mine sprawled out on the pavement in front of me, bigger than life, exaggerated, almost mocking. I stood still, staring at it, and something clicked. That shadow wasn’t just mimicking my shape; it was telling my story. It was carrying the weight of everything I hadn’t dealt with, pulling bits of my past into the present like a quiet reminder of where I’d been.
For years, I carried anger like it was some kind of badge of honor. It sat heavy on my chest, waiting for a chance to explode. The smallest thing could set me off words, looks, situations and just like that, I’d push people away. I told myself it was their fault, that they didn’t understand me, that the world was unfair. But deep down, I knew the truth. That anger wasn’t about anyone else. It was mine. My shadow, loud and bold, demanding attention.
It’s wild how long you can avoid dealing with yourself. I spent years running from my own shadow, convinced I didn’t need to face it. But one night, sitting alone in the quiet, I felt this tug on my spirit, like the universe itself was saying, Stop dodging. Look at what’s weighing you down. And there it was all the pain, the doubts, the frustration I’d ignored. It was messy, raw, and uncomfortable. But it was me.
The beauty of shadows is they’re only possible because of light. Even when life feels heavy, when the darkness feels endless, the light is still there, shining through. Shadows don’t exist without it. And that’s what hit me: my shadow wasn’t just a reminder of the darkness I carried; it was proof that the Creator’s light had never left me. Even when I couldn’t see it, even when I didn’t want to acknowledge it, it was always there, holding me up.
There’s a line I grew up hearing: Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I’m not scared because the Creator’s got me, guiding me and keeping me steady. That truth hit different when I stopped running and let myself feel it. The valleys, the shadows, the hard stuff they aren’t the end. They’re just part of the journey, part of what shapes us.
When I finally stopped running and sat with my shadow, I learned something surprising. The anger I carried wasn’t just anger. It was pain, disappointment, rejection all the things I hadn’t let myself grieve. And instead of tearing me down, that shadow started to teach me. It showed me the parts of myself that needed healing, the places where grace and love had been missing.
What I’ve realized is that shadows aren’t the enemy. They’re a mirror, reflecting the parts of us we’re too scared to face. But here’s the kicker they’re not there to break us. They’re there to guide us back to the light. And when we stop running, when we face them head-on, something shifts. The weight lifts, and suddenly, the shadow isn’t so intimidating. It becomes a part of our story, a reminder of where we’ve been and how far we’ve come.
These days, I don’t fear my shadow. I see it as a companion, a teacher. It’s not about being perfect or pretending everything’s fine it’s about being real. Life is a dance between light and dark, highs and lows, and every shadow is proof that the light is still shining.
So when you see your shadow stretching out behind you, take a moment. Ask yourself what it’s trying to show you. Stop dodging, stop running, and let it teach you. Because the Creator didn’t design you to stay stuck in fear or shame. The light is always there, waiting for you to step into it, shadow and all.
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