In the Shadow of Thy Wings: A Primer in Shadow Work
This comprehensive overview of the concept of the shadow and shadow work is meant to serve as a complement to the free self-paced shadow work program we have also developed. You can keep reading this primer, if you haven’t already, and when you’re ready, you may begin your own journey into the deep.
Tim’s Dislclaimer: I am not a psychologist, so please take this for what it is — a layman’s humble attempt to distill years of personal study and exploration into an understandable working model of the human psyche. I do not claim to be an expert in any of these matters, nor do I believe that anything I’ve said below should be taken as infallible truth. These are simply my personal findings, presented here in an attempt to pay it forward and help others on their path, just as I have been assisted by those who came before me.
Introduction
To help us understand and appreciate the role of the shadow, we felt it would be helpful to begin by presenting an overview of the psyche's basic structure. The following model is a synthesis of many different schools of thought, from the psychologies of Freud, Jung, and Assagioli to the spiritual philosophies of the Gnostics, Kabbalists, and Hermeticists, combined with our own research and personal experimentation. It is important to note, however, that this is not meant to be taken as a definitive system, but as a conceptual framework to help us make sense of the mechanism and purpose of the shadow and explain how it fits into the greater scheme of the individual psyche. These are, in truth, lofty concepts that transcend thought, reason, and language, so we must not allow ourselves to be limited by any preconceived notions. The unconscious does not share our preference for neatly-organized systems and categories; it operates and exists on its own terms that we cannot truly grasp from our limited viewpoint as human beings — but we can establish a working relationship with it through the use of myth, metaphor, and symbol.
“An Intelligible Sphere”
We have used the circle as a metaphor throughout the ages to understand the human mind and its relationship to reality – but why? Perhaps it is because our planet and the heavenly spheres around it appear to us in a circular form. We also use the circle to represent the particles that make up matter as we’ve come to know and understand it – though that is certainly in question now thanks to quantum mechanics. Even our understanding of time is circular in nature, as we observe with the passage of day into night and back again, and in our progression through the seasons and the signs of the Zodiac as the Earth revolves around the Sun. As we can see above, the Aztec Sun Stone depicts its calendar system in a circular formation around a central disc containing an image of their solar deity. It is not uncommon for us to interpret our relationship with divinity in such terms, as we see in the mandalas of many different cultures throughout the world, from the Tibetan Buddhists to the North American Navajo. We find this also in the so-called Wheel of Samsara, or as we know it in the Tarot community, the Wheel of Fortune.
(Interestingly enough, the deity on the Sun Stone is bordered by four squares representing the four ages, much like the four Kerubim depicted on the Wheel of Fortune card. This combination of the circle and square is also found in the compass and square of Freemasonry, which represents the so-called squaring of the circle – a mathematical allegory for the progressive awakening of the spirit that lies dormant within matter.)
Joseph Campbell was fond of quoting that, “God is an intelligible sphere, whose center is everywhere, and whose circumference is nowhere.”* In many spiritual traditions, each individual is seen as a distinct center of expression for this unfathomable force – a microcosm of the macrocosm, as it is understood by students of the occult. This makes even more sense when we recall that our natal chart is essentially a panoramic snapshot of the heavens at the time and place of our birth. The resulting series of interactions between the signs and planets is said to directly inform our own unique psychic constitution. It is for this reason that we have chosen to represent the human psyche and its constituents as circles.
* To the best of my ability, I have traced the quote back to Alain of Lille in the 12th Century, though it has since been stated by a number of people in a variety of ways.
We recommend that you open the diagram in a separate window for reference.
The Three “Levels” of Consciousness
When we observe the diagram above, we can see that the overall psyche – the main circle that encompasses all its other components – has been divided into two halves. The lower half is what we call the subconscious, while the upper half is known as the superconscious. Together, these two halves comprise what Jung referred to as the unconscious – the combined totality of all the elements of the psyche that are typically inaccessible to our everyday, conscious awareness, represented by the small circle at the center of our diagram.
The conscious mind is the interface through which we interact with the world around us, or, better yet, through which our inner world interacts with the outer world. It is what the alchemists refer to as sulphur – the individual soul, or personality, which is made up of our unique psychic constitution and our consciously held ideas, attitudes, beliefs, preferences, etc. To aid us in our understanding, we can think of it as a combination of the elements of fire and air. Simply put, it is what makes us ourselves as individuals, but it is also the point at which all three levels of consciousness converge and express themselves in the world of action.
The subconscious is made up of the elements of the psyche which lie below the threshold of consciousness, represented by the dividing line at the center of the diagram. The alchemists refer to it as salt – the innate wisdom of our body (earth) and its etheric substratum, from which our instincts and emotions arise (water). To better illustrate this point, think of a time when you experienced an emotion so profoundly that you literally felt it in your body. This can be considered a message from the subconscious, like a gut feeling that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up when you sense danger. More relevant to our purposes, however, the subconscious also encompasses the faculty of memory, which includes what early psychologists called the apperceptive mass – the sum total of our knowledge and learned experience, which is used as a reference point by which we interpret and judge new experiences. Those experiences that fit in with our conscious idea of self and the world at large are stored in a readily-accessible memory bank in the upper levels of the subconscious, but those that do not – especially those which are too painful for us to accept – are tucked away in a deeper layer through the mechanism of repression. This, as we will examine later, is the basis of the shadow. Beneath the shadow, in the deepest recesses of the subconscious, lies what has been termed the race memory – the sum total of humanity’s collective experience as a species, which may be passed on transgenerationally through our genetic material.
The superconscious is composed of the psychic elements which stand above the threshold of consciousness. In alchemical parlance, it is referred to as mercury – the spirit, or the fluid, vital essence of life that unites the individual soul (conscious) with the body (subconscious) and allows them to operate as one harmonious unit. We can also think of it as an expression of the combined forces of water and air. The superconscious is the point of origin for our concept of self. It holds our highest ideals and aspirations, as it is the driving force behind the faculty of will – our innate drive toward self-actualization. This is where the line between free will and determinism becomes increasingly blurred, and one’s own will is ultimately found to be an extension of what we think of as divine will, or True Will in Thelemic terms. As we progress along our path, the superconscious communicates with us through inspiration, intuition, and synchronicity – and the practices of meditation and divination help us to cultivate an open channel through which we can receive these messages more clearly and frequently. The upper stratum of superconsciousness is, by its very nature, incomprehensible to us, as it culminates in the point of union between subject and object, where the individual psyche dissolves into the collective unconscious, and, ultimately, into undifferentiated oneness.
The Central Archetypes
The concept of archetypes has exploded in popularity in recent years, but our understanding of them has evolved since the early days of Jung and company. Today we view archetypes as primal, autonomous thoughtforms that exist as centers of potentiality within the collective unconscious and seek expression in our daily lives through the agency of the personal unconscious. To further illustrate this point, imagine a flashlight. An archetype can be likened to the potentiality of light that exists within the flashlight (the unconscious) rather than the physical manifestation of light it emits once it has been turned on (the conscious manifestation). They are the primordial causes behind the effects we witness in the world of action, or for our purposes, those that we observe in human behavior.
Archetypes seek expression through the mechanism of projection. When we have an experience, it is interpreted subconsciously through the apperceptive mass – the sum total of our learned experience – and we are impelled to respond according to our established relationship with the archetype that is activated thereby. If we have a good relationship with this archetype, our psyche will likely project a clear, positive image onto the experience, but if the relationship is strained, the archetype will be filtered through our distorted perception of it, and a negative image will be projected onto the experience. For our purposes, we can think of positive projections as rooted in the Self, and negative projections as a product of the shadow, but the truth is likely much more nuanced than that. In fact, positive projections can also go awry, such as when we project the image of the Self onto a guru or charismatic leader, rather than recognize that we too possess those qualities that we admire – they simply exist in an archetypal form within our own psyche, as they have yet to be actualized and integrated into our conscious perception of self, or our ego.
In the Jungian process of individuation – the progressive unfoldment of one’s innate potential – we often think of four primary archetypes – the shadow, the anima/animus, and the Self. I have also chosen to include the Freudian ego in our current exploration, as I have come to view it as the central point of consciousness, where all the aforementioned archetypes and layers of our being converge.
The Ego
The ego, as we alluded to previously, is a complex constellation of all the elements that make up our unique conception of self. It is the focal point of our conscious awareness, and the lens through which we view the world around us. When it is polished and clear, it can be likened to a crystal ball – but when it has been clouded by the eruption of unconscious contents, our interpretation of the world is inevitably distorted. As we can observe in the diagram, the ego is the center of our psychic totality; it rests on the threshold of consciousness, receiving constant input from the sub- and superconscious via the four central archetypes, whether we are aware of this or not. The object of individuation is to “bring the unconscious to light,” and expand the scope of our awareness so that we are able to consciously integrate these archetypes into our daily lives and thereby bring their (potentially) pathological expressions into balance.
(Please note: Jungian analysis often deals with the persona archetype as well, which I view as the mask through which we filter the ego in order to conform to perceived societal standards and make ourselves more palatable in our interactions with others. It often operates according to educational, familial, and cultural conditioning, and it too can become pathological if we begin to over-identify with it and mistake the mask for who we actually are as individuals. Imagine the teacher, for example, who experiences an identity crisis once they retire from the profession they’ve come to identify with after several years in a classroom.)
The Self
The Self is an individualized personification of the superconscious. It is the fountainhead of our ideals and aspirations, and as such, it can be considered the guiding light of our ego on its journey to wholeness. To put it simply, it is the deeper aspect of us that seems to be running the show from behind the scenes – the director of our life’s story, if you will. As we can see in the diagram, it sits above the threshold of consciousness, imparting its influence to the ego and the superconscious portion of the anima/animus complex, which we will soon explore. We experience this influence most notably in our daily lives through sudden insights, intuitions, and inspirations, but its mechanism underlies all that we do and everything that happens to us. The Self exists outside the spectrum of human judgement, so its actions may at times seem impersonal, but we can rest assured that it seems to operate by its own life-affirming form of morality. We may, for example, experience what seems to be a tragedy, only to discover later that it was the catalyst for a vital life change that we may not have been able to initiate on our own. Above all else, the Self seeks to expand our ego’s limited perspective to help us achieve the highest level of integration possible, both within ourselves and in the world at large.
The Shadow
Before we explore the shadow, it is necessary to elaborate on the mechanism by which experience is sorted and assimilated into our psyche. Keep in mind, however, that this is just a frame of reference to help us explain a subject that is virtually incomprehensible to our linear, problem-solving mode of consciousness. To make sense of this process, it can be helpful to imagine the psyche as a grand filing system. Each archetype is like an individual folder, containing a series of reinforcing memories, ideas, images, associations, etc. (It also helps to think of the folder itself as the transpersonal core of the archetype, and its contents as our own unique expression of it.) When we have an experience, it is instantly cross-referenced against all the active folders in our psyche. Once the corresponding archetype has been activated, the new experience is assimilated into its overall structure, and a projection arises to seek expression in the world of action before retreating back into the apperceptive mass.
I believe the Freudian superego plays an important role in this sorting process. We can think of the superego as our conscience – a guilt/punishment complex created during the trial-and-error stages of our growth, as we learned the dos and don’ts of our familial, cultural, and societal groups.* If we were to include it on our chart, I would place it behind the ego, at the point of intersection between the Self and the shadow. (See the diagram below.) When an experience resonates with our concept of self, and it is acceptable by the terms of our superego, it is stored in a readily-accessible memory bank in the upper subconscious, but when it does not, it is repressed and stored within the shadow complex. Repression is the mechanism through which our psyche “buries” a traumatic thought, feeling, or experience beneath the level of conscious awareness so we don’t have to deal with it in the moment. But, as we all know, if we hide something away in the back of our refrigerator, it will eventually begin to fester and emit a foul odor – and our first instinct is often to blame someone else before we come to realize that it was our own doing. That is the shadow at work.
If the Self is that which we aspire to be, the shadow is that which we cannot accept within ourselves. It is, in fact, the sum total of all that we have deemed unacceptable about ourselves and the world at large, courtesy of the ego and superego. If we think back to the file folder analogy, we can imagine that the shadow might look like Bart Simpson’s school record at Springfield Elementary. Put simply, it is a metaphysical record of all our misdeeds and their consequences, and all the things we’ve learned – or been taught – to fear and hate. As such, it is the seat of all forms of intolerance and bigotry, but these phenomena do not arise from the shadow directly – they come from the ego’s inability to process and assimilate its contents. When something is too painful to face within oneself, the ego seeks an “other” to act as a scapegoat for its own imbalances and inadequacies. This is known in the analytic community as shadow projection. This unconscious process is the easiest way for us to release the psychic tension that arises when the shadow has been activated.
*The superego may even be the seed from which the ego sprouts, as the psyche begins to formulate a personality to reconcile our inner world with the world outside.
The Anima/Animus Complex
I’ve chosen to leave the anima/animus complex until last, as my interpretation of these important archetypes diverges from the classical definition to include elements of both the Self and the shadow, as depicted in our diagram. Jung originally believed the anima to be man’s feminine soul, based upon the principle of eros, or desire, while the animus was woman’s masculine soul, based upon the principle of logos, or reason. The anima complex was thought to arise from man’s experience with woman, beginning with the mother, as the animus was said to be built upon woman’s experience with man, starting with the father. These were, therefore, thought by Jungians to be the basis of Freud’s Oedipus and Electra complexes – a hidden urge that makes man wish to overthrow the father in order to keep the mother to himself, and vice versa for woman and the mother.
While I agree with some of those sentiments, our understanding of gender has undergone drastic change in the sixty years since Jung’s death. He initially suggested, for example, that the shadow was constructed around repressed characteristics related to our biological sex, while the Self was built around those that we wished to embody. The innate potential of both, however, was thought to lie dormant within us, manifesting in our lives through dream images and projections that arise in our interactions with people of the same sex. I recognize that Jung had his own reasons — both conscious and unconscious — for presenting his findings as he did, but it is clear to me that we all inevitably amass a wide range of experiences, both good and bad, with both genders, regardless of our biological sex, and that therefore both inform our sense of self in some way. In recent times, many people have even come to view gender as a spectrum rather than a binary system. I believe that all this can be easily explained if we simply assume that both archetypes are latent within the psyche during our early stages of development, and that our personal relationship with them likely influences our own unique expression of gender.
It would not be a stretch to suggest that Jung’s original ideas regarding the anima/animus complex were informed by the times in which he lived and operated. As we can readily observe in our modern age, the stern, moralistic influence of the Abrahamic religions has cast a long shadow on the collective psyche that we are still working through today — a shadow that reached its peak during the puritanical Victorian era in which Jung was raised. Throughout the preceding ages of human history, a great deal of emphasis was placed on the strict adherence to heterosexual orthodoxy and the so-called sanctity of the relationship between man and woman. This, along with a myriad of other social and environmental factors, has led to a style of upbringing and education that works to strengthen and reinforce traditional gender roles in children as they grow and develop, resulting in the ego’s overidentification with the biological sex of birth. By this mechanism, the male ego becomes “fused” to the archetype of the animus, while the female ego is fused to that of the anima, and the complementary archetype remains unconscious, seeking its actualization in the individual’s interactions with the opposite sex. (This also seems to provide a satisfactory explanation for Jung’s original conception of the shadow and Self as reflections of the potentialities of one's biological sex.)
This may seem good and well to some, but when man becomes overly identified with his masculinity, his internal feminine counterpart inevitably suffers — and so too does his relationship with the women outside of him. This becomes quite clear when we observe the modern day men's rights movement and witness the vitriol directed towards its perceived enemy — modern feminism. The starvation of man’s feminine expression then leads his anima to seek it in unhealthy — as well as unconscious — ways. How often, for instance, has man condemned woman for her emotionality, only to fly off the handle himself at the slightest provocation? (Anger, we must recall, is still an emotion — albeit one that we have collectively "decided" is befitting of man.) We must remember, however, that the converse is also true — when woman becomes overly identified with her femininity, her animus suffers as well, and seeks its own unhealthy — and unconscious — forms of expression.
It is for this reason that I believe the archetype of the androgyne — the divine hermaphroditic being who has transcended the opposites — is desperately seeking actualization in modern times. We can observe this phenomenon in the ever-growing LGBTQ+ movement, perhaps most notably amongst those who identify as trans, non-binary, gender-fluid, and other non-traditional forms of gender expression. It is my belief that this may, in part, be the collective psyche’s attempt to seek balance. Regardless of our political motivations and beliefs, it is apparent that every so-called biological male has an internal feminine counterpart, while every female has her masculine counterpart — and these as-of-yet primitive, imbalanced aspects of our psyche must be discovered, acknowledged, and integrated into our life experience, for they, along with the shadow and Self, provide the missing pieces for which we are ever searching outside of ourselves. With that being said, I believe that Jung's theories hold true as long as the anima or animus is repressed and its primary mode of expression remains unconscious. If and when, however, we are able to withdraw identification from the gender principle which matches our biological sex, and learn to identify instead as the consciousness which inhabits the body, the archetype in question seems to withdraw from its attachment to our ego and fall back into balance with its complementary counterpart, with aspects of both thereby informing the individual’s conscious conception of self, regardless of gender identity.
As we can see from our diagram, I believe that all the central archetypes overlap and interact, and that we can understand them better if we examine how they function as a unit rather than as individual parts. I’ve positioned the anima and the animus on the threshold of the sub- and superconscious, flanking the ego in a position that mimics the twin pillars of Qabalah. At the highest level, we can think of these two principles as the primal expression of duality – the positive and negative, active and passive, yin and yang principles. Along with the Self, they form a trinity that resembles the supernal triad of Kether, Chokmah, and Binah on the Tree of Life*, which represent oneness (androgyny), the primal will to expression (masculine), and the initial manifestation of form (feminine) – or at least the concept of form as we know it.
In my own experience, I’ve found that there are general expressions of the shadow and the Self that transcend gender, but there also seem to be gender-specific aspects as well, which I have attributed to the anima/animus complex. As we can observe in the diagram, I have named the sub- and superconscious portions of these archetypes after figures in Judeo-Christian mythology. I have chosen this particular pantheon due to the fact that it is inherently dualistic, and therefore easier to classify in terms of good vs. evil. If we look instead to Graeco-Roman mythology, we see that figures like Zeus and Aphrodite are much more complex beings, whose attitudes and behaviors seem to range the entire spectrum of light and darkness. They can therefore be considered more integrated, whereas we humans still tend to view and experience life in dualistic terms, thereby holding ourselves in a state of psychic tension between the Self and the shadow.
As such, the anima and animus have been divided into two dichotomous halves – the Sophia/Lilith principles and the Christ/Satan principles. While I believe that we all have our own unique “file folder” for each of these, I have tried to keep my examples as broad and archetypal as possible – but keep in mind that they are still a projection from my own psyche. I see the Sophia principle as a combination of understanding and intuition – a higher level of knowing, and a sense of oneness with life and its myriad forms and operations. The Lilith principle, on the other hand, I see as a product of our misunderstanding of life’s challenges. It is the “devouring mother,” much like Kali, who loves the child, and yet, by giving it life and form, sets it up for its eventual death and destruction. The Christ principle, in my view, is a symbol of sacrifice for a higher purpose; it is the alchemical pelican, who feeds its young with the flesh from its own breast. The Satan principle, conversely, can be seen as the source of selfish ambition – the pursuit of power and wealth at the expense of others.
*I also link the ego to Tiphareth, seat of the ruach, or conscious soul, and the shadow to Yesod, the sphere of the nephesh, or animal soul.
The Whys & Hows of Shadow Work
As we begin our foray into shadow work, we’d do well to remember that the psyche is a comparatively new development in our evolution, and it has not yet achieved the same level of perfection as other aspects of the human organism, like the heart or the respiratory system. It is a metaphysical dimension to the human experience, so it is, by its nature, elusive and all but impossible to understand or map out under the accepted terms of modern science. It is but a work in progress, so it is understandable that we have a few kinks to work out as humankind barrels toward its uncertain future – but we must have faith that it is all by design. It has taken us over thirteen billion years to go from relative nothingness to an ever-expanding universe full of light, wonder, and potential, and we now have a chance to consciously participate in this process. Though our own path may not seem so significant in the grand scheme, in truth, we are helping to refine the psyche for future generations whenever we undertake any form of earnest spiritual work. We must, however, accept that this is a lengthy process. We’re likely not going to see a grand awakening of the masses next week, but we can observe a gradual shift between generations – and I believe that our capacity for expansion will only continue to multiply.
As we travel a spiritual path, we are expanding our scope of awareness to include elements of the superconscious Self, which inevitably shines its light upon the subconscious contents of the shadow. Though this can be painful – especially once we’ve developed the capacity to recognize them as our own – it is a vital part of our development. We must remember that the shadow is a natural product of life within a dualistic paradigm. Good, by its nature, implies the existence of evil, and as long as we are bred and conditioned to seek pleasure and avoid pain, we will inevitably draw parallels and form associations between these two sets of opposites, whether consciously or subconsciously. This is especially challenging when we begin to learn that some pleasurable things can hurt us, while other painful things can be good for us. We may even be taught that some forms of pleasure are downright evil! In our formative years, we’re fed so much conflicting information about these concepts that they become etched into the very fabric of our being, in the form of the superego.
As we suggested above, the superego likely oversees this metaphysical sorting process, and all the so-called evil, painful, and forbidden elements of our personality are filed under shadow and stuffed as deep into the subconscious as they will go. When we look at it from this perspective, it is hard not to see the shadow as an abused inner child – a primitive, yet ultimately innocent aspect of the psyche that has been condemned to the infernal regions of the mind. It is we who have made it into a monster with our aversion and neglect, much like the creature in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Remember – it is the sum of all that is unwanted within us. Better yet, it is the sum of all that humanity has rejected within itself. Think about that for a moment. Though we’ve spent most of our time exploring the archetypes from an individual perspective, we must remember that they are transpersonal by nature. We will never truly understand what they are, or how they came to be, but they seem to exist within the psyche as separate entities with their own attitudes and agendas.
The shadow, in particular, may have been developed through the advent of social taboos – any behaviors or actions that caused disharmony within the family or tribal unit, or in some way put them in danger, whether actual or perceived. It is an unavoidable fact of life that some things are good for the development and sustainment of a community, while others lead to conflict and disintegration. It is the moral stance we’ve adopted that has made this into such a problem. When a child touches a hot stove and receives a burn, the pain that arises is enough to teach him that this is something to avoid in the future – but when we condemn the child for this action, he learns instead that he is the problem. The stove is just a stove; it does what it is expected to do – but it is he who made the decision to touch it, and therefore he is at fault. We have now projected a moral component onto the situation that never existed until we decided it did.
Here we find another unavoidable fact of life — blaming others and taking a moral stance against that which we view as wrong or evil is something our species has done for millennia, and it likely isn’t going to change anytime soon. It too is a learned behavior, and modern research has taught us that we cannot unlearn that which has been learned. We can, however, begin to change our perspective and learn to respond to such stimuli differently. This is the purpose of shadow work. We are not trying to eradicate unwanted traits or behaviors – that is why the shadow exists in the first place. When a shadow projection arises, it isn’t there to empower our ego by giving us a chance to punish the evil that exists outside of us – it is simply seeking integration and acceptance. It wants us to recognize and acknowledge that we too have the capacity for that which we have deemed unacceptable. Only then will we cease to condemn our fellow man for choices and actions that we too may have taken under a different set of circumstances. No matter how hard we try to convince ourselves otherwise, we can never truly understand life from another’s perspective, and therefore, we can never truly pass an objective judgement on another human being.
(I am not in any way suggesting that we should simply allow atrocities to occur, nor am I suggesting that major change is not necessary if we wish to survive as a species. I am, however, emphatically stating that no cultural revolution will ever take hold until there has been a revolution of consciousness.)
“We must sacrifice perfection on the altar of wholeness.”
That is what analytical psychologist Erich Neumann concluded in his exploration of the shadow and the societal ills that have arisen from its repression. We can still hold onto our ideals and do our best to embody them, but we must also recognize and respect the limitations that reality has placed upon us. Our unique development unfolded as it did for a reason – down to our every so-called mistake, failure, and imperfection. It is only by accepting ourselves as we are and learning to work within our limits that we can achieve true integration – and as we accept ourselves, we thereby become more patient and understanding with others. We often think of personal development in individualistic terms, but I believe this is an oversight. Introspection is not meant to isolate us from others. On the contrary, I believe that traveling inward helps us to establish a deeper connection with the world around us – and the world beyond. Just as our individual consciousness dissolves into the collective at the heights of the superconscious, we become one with all the ancestors who came before us in the depths of the subconscious.
“As it is above, so shall it be below.”
-Tim