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The Spring Equinox: Illumination, Balance & Wholeness

March 25, 2010
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This last new moon I found myself back on my yoga mat, for the second time in about a year.  Previously I had attempted it about two months ago, but after that I was hard pressed to find a compelling enough reason to return, which is quite significant given that it used to be a daily (and sometimes even twice daily) routine.  The difference between then and now is the small matter of spinal surgery, which left me with a totally different body configuration than I was used to.  There I was on the mat, coughing as I tried to take deep breaths (the result of having my torso compressed from muscular atrophy), and having nowhere near the range of motion I used to.  It was arduous, painful and shameful.

Now, on the one hand, someone might say that the fact that I was able to even take to the mat any at all was a miracle given that months ago I couldn’t even sit up, much less stand and move about.  That same someone might also say that it is just a matter of time before further progress is made and I’m back to ‘normal,’  and they may be right, but in the moment, when I am neither confined to bed, nor ‘normal,’ this is shallow reassurance.

The Spring Equinox is generally associated with a time of birthing – when new plants begin to bloom, and when animals come out of hibernation to mate.  Previously I’ve chosen to honour this aspect of it through birthing new projects, or new qualities within myself that I wish to develop to fruition later on in the year.  This year, however, my perspective has shifted somewhat.  Considering that this Equinox is meant to represent the balance in daylight and night-time hours that gives way to longer days, and therefore the arrival of the lightest portion of the year (culminating in the Summer Solstice), what if I shift attention from birthing new things to honouring what is already there –  to what is being illuminated at this time?

Tibetan Buddhist, Rinpoche Chogyam Trungpa, says that “in the vision of the Great Eastern Sun… (w)e are always wiling to give things a chance to flower… we don’t feel that we have to put a lid on anyone or anything.”  For him, the Great Eastern Sun – East being the direction from which the sun rises – is a metaphor for enlightenment, and in this state there is nothing but splendour.  But what does this mean on a practical level, and what does it have to do with feminine spirituality?

Let’s go back to our ‘blooming’ analogy and imagine a garden plot in which there are hundreds of delicate buds from which we expect magnificent flora to burst forth in abundance.  Imagine, as well, that among these flowers are weeds, which,  after all, grow under the same conditions that other plants do.  Do we imagine our garden ruined by such weeds?  Or are they accepted as part of the experience of gardening?

In the Bhagavad Gita, reference is made to ‘ksetra’ – the field of activity for the soul, through which it comes to know itself (Chapter 13).  It is therefore through the “known” that one has the experience of the “knower,” or as some traditions describe it, the witness.  According to Thomas Moore, former Catholic monk turned lecturer and archetypal psychologist, “the way that the soul makes itself felt most clearly (is) in the unusual expressions of a life, even and maybe especially in the problematical ones.”  He illustrates this with an example from his practice:

I recall once being visited late at night by a woman in her late fifties.  Her husband had just left her after twenty-five years of marriage.  She didn’t think she could go on.  No one in her family, she kept repeating, had ever been divorced.  Why had this happened to her?  I noticed that of all the possible thoughts that could preoccupy her at this difficult time, the worst was the thought that she wasn’t like the rest of her family.  Something serious must be wrong with her, she thought.  In a dark way, her individuality was asserting itself in this ordeal.  I imagined that this in fact might be the “purpose” of the event: to bring her around to a sharp sense of her own uniqueness.  (Care of the Soul: A guide for cultivating depth and sacredness in everyday life, p. 18)

Going back to the analogy, our tendency is to immediately seek to extricate the weeds – for me, by eliminating any contact with yoga or anything that reminded me of how “off” I was.  But Moore says that “(w)hen you regard the soul with an open mind, you begin to find messages that lie within the illness, the corrections that can be found in remorse… and the necessary changes requested by depression and anxiety… Care of the soul observes the paradox whereby a muscled, strong-willed pursuit of change can actually stand in the way of substantive transformation.”

So here I am on the mat for a third time, realising that the resistance I was (am) experiencing was the same resistance that prompted me to sit up, then to stand on my own, then to move about independently.  It is that part of me that isn’t satisfied as long as there is more progress to be made, or as long as there are further steps to take along the journey.  Giving thanks for illumination.

Resources:

Featured Goddess: Maya Shakti

Although Maya is more often than not considered an inherent quality of the goddess Shakti rather than a goddess in Her own rite, personifying this aspect lends a critical understanding to the wholeness that is Shiva (consciousness) and Shakti (matter).

Maya is often defined as the illusion that is this material existence, coming from the Sanskrit “ma” (meaning “not”), and “ya” (meaning “that”).  Given this definition, one can understand why Maya is frequently relegated to something that one should try to overcome, or look beyond, in order to realise the ultimate Truth that is enlightenment.  But in the Devi Gita, song of the Goddess, Maya is described as absolutely critical to enlightenment.  She reveals clues about what consciousness (or Shiva, or God) is.  She represents the known, or knowable, without which there could be no knower.

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Moon and Shadow: Shadow-work as Spiritual Practice

March 2, 2010
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Moon Shadow, Copyright (c) Nicola Gibbons

For the past couple months I’ve been experiencing something peculiar during the full moon period – the more that the moon grew in splendour and brilliance, the darker and more negative my own thoughts grew.

I’ve been used to the idea for some time now that our Mother orb tended to intensify emotions as she waxed to fullness, but since the blue moon that ushered in this new year, the energies seem to have taken a decidedly more ominous turn.

Last month was particularly intense and resulted in my having to withdraw from friends and family alike for a period of a few days to keep them out of harm’s way.  During this time I could identify easily with the werewolf myth because it felt like the more primal and ferocious parts of my self had taken over my more moderate and rational side.  I found myself snapping at persons whom I knew meant well, and  growing increasingly intolerant of others where it was not my place to do so.

At first, I managed to regain some composure by speaking to a friend who reminded me that this aspect of my personality was not all of who I am, and was certainly not the reason why our friendship had blossomed to this stage.  But quickly after that conversation, I found myself slumping back into blackness.  So intense was this energy, and so profound the self-loathing that undergirded it that I was initially afraid to be consumed by it.  Then I remembered, not even category 5 hurricanes can sustain their destructive power indefinitely, and though they leave chaos in their wake, they also give way to renewal.  Let’s see where this takes me.

What confronted me during this time is what psychoanalyst, Carl Jung, refers to as the “shadow” – that aspect of the self which has not been given expression, either because the opportunity hasn’t presented itself, or because there was a deliberate choice taken by the individual to  suppress these characteristics in favour of others. Classic examples, for many women in particular, are those ‘negative’ emotions of anger and hatred.  These, we’ve been taught, alienate us from, and cause the disapproval of, others – something we learnt back when we were trying to be  “good little girls.”

But, according to Jung, this is a far more pervasive issue, especially at this time.  For example, among the New Age movement, the emphasis on “the light” and affirming good, has the unfortunate consequence of suppressing  and denying any shadow, or ‘bad,’ tendencies.  Debbie Ford, in her book The Dark Side of the Light Chasers, addresses this issue and encourages persons to not only identify shadow tendencies, but to integrate them into the whole person.  “Aren’t there times when you need to be a bitch?” she asks.  (I can personally certainly think of a few such occasions.)

Indeed, Jung has highlighted the fact that the shadow possesses tremendous energy which is necessary for transformation.  For him, enlightenment is not a matter of eradicating darkness, so much as “seeking to make the darkness conscious.”

What tends to happen, instead, is that people, in suppressing the shadow, effectively end up projecting it onto others – allowing the finger to be pointed ‘out there’ and keeping one blind to any parallels within.  There are therefore implications for others as well.  To the extent that we do not own our own shadow and withdraw it from persons outside, we contribute to the ‘collective shadow,’ a trans-personal energy that defines whole communities or even nations, warns Jung.  The bodhisattva (Buddhist) way of seeking liberation for self in order to enable liberation of others thus comes to take on real, and practical, meaning.

But how do we even approach this?  Well, firstly, shadow work has come to be a significant part of feminine spiritual practice and feminine psychology.  One cannot venture too far into literature without coming across references to the Dark Mother, or dark feminine, which we find personified in myths of Lilith, the Black Madonna, Kali and Hel (goddess of the underworld).  Getting to know these myths and archetypes, and being comfortable with their representation as your own internal shadow qualities, is one way to approach this practice on your own.

Aside from that is the need for a place that can act as a container for these energies, which are as much a part of our makeup as the dark side of the moon is to the full moon – we often forget that there is another side of the moon upon which no light is being shed, at the same time as its luminescence shines forth.  This place can be a physical or virtual community in which women can find comfort, not criticism, in coming to terms with the shadow personality.  Acceptance and compassion are crucial elements of such a grouping.

Finally, and equally important to confronting the shadow, however, is knowing when to step away from it, according to Jungian analyst and Spiritual Director, Don Bisson.  In that regard, not only is it necessary to have a community which will nurture you through the process, but also to have a guide who will show you when the time comes to walk away.  Find someone, a spiritual counsellor, practitioner or therapist, who is familiar with shadow work and will encourage you to stay with the process for as long as you need, and then lead you out of it in a way that facilitates integration and wholeness.

As for me, I was lucky to have had experience in shadow work during my transpersonal psychology studies.  I’m certainly no expert, but what I did know, along with my meditation practice, allowed me move through the process consciously – which, to me, was the most important thing.  I eventually emerged from it after a few days, feeling as though my ego had been attacked, battered and subsequently annihilated. I experienced such a deep and profound sense of suffering due to my ego identification that I felt mortally wounded from an emotional standpoint.  The shadow, in its ugliness, is my self, I had to admit.  There was more to me than what I chose to put out there and I could no longer hide that fact.  It has been a gradual recovery – nothing like a profound “aha” moment at all.  What I’ve come away with so far, interestingly, is a simple, but tremendous feeling of liberation in knowing that nothing further lingered in the dark… at least, for now ❍

Resources

A list of physical and virtual places to go

Ereshkigal - Sumerian Goddess of the Underworld

Featured Goddess – Ereshkigal

Among all the myths of the dark feminine, the one which seems to meet with the greatest resistance is in relation to Ereshkigal, sister of Inanna, Sumerian goddess of love and fertility, and war.

Their most famous myth tells of Inanna’s descent to the underworld, presumably to conquer it, clad in raiments and jewelry – including a turban, gold ring and lapiz lazuli rod – that denoted her preeminence as a goddess.

Upon learning of Inanna’s visit, Erekshigal advises each of her seven gatekeepers to remove an item of Inanna’s clothing or jewelry at each gate before allowing her to proceed further.

Stripped naked, Inanna arrives to the underworld, then she made her sister Erec-ki-gala rise from her throne, and instead she sat on her throne. The Anna, the seven judges, rendered their decision against her. They looked at her — it was the look of death. They spoke to her — it was the speech of anger. They shouted at her — it was the shout of heavy guilt. The afflicted woman was turned into a corpse. And the corpse was hung on a hook.

Thus she remained for three days and three nights before the other gods intervened and sent two genderless agents to help rescue her.  As they are making their departure, Ereshkigal stops them and insists that someone be made to take Inanna’s place.  Inanna turns down two offers by her servants to take her place in the underworld and instead makes the decision to let the demons take Dumuzi, her husband, whom she finds lazing under a tree and expressing no distress that his wife was taken captive to the Underworld.

This myth has powerful symbolism as it relates to shadow work.  Firstly, it demonstrates the grave error in going about the process with the intent of conquest.  One must befriend, embrace and shed compassion on the shadow in order for it to yield.

Second, as with the stripping of Inanna at each gate, the descent to the realm of the shadow requires that one abandon those things that comprise the outer persona.  There is no place for such things in shadow work.  One only arrives to meet the shadow with the bare self.  Not who you think you are or have chosen to be up to that point.

Thirdly, expect that part of the process will include an ego-death of some sort.  A disidentification with a treasured part of yourself – the good girl, for example.

Finally, know that emergence back into the world means that you will be leaving behind that formerly beloved aspect of yourself.  It is a sacrifice that must be willfully given.  This too is part of the process and needs to be accepted.

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