ShadoworkS

THE WOMAN OF HIS DREAMS

One evening I found myself walking through the quiet and peaceful streets of the enchanted city where I spent so much of my time. As I strolled, I felt drawn by something indefinable but magnetic and exciting. I hardly saw any other people until the moment I turned a corner and came upon a crowd of happy strangers who stood before the window of a sequestered restaurant. They all beamed with delight and mirth at my arrival, and as I drew closer, one of them said to the others: "Here he is. Now we shall see."

"See what?" I asked as I reached the smiling young man who looked familiar but remained a stranger.

"We'll see how you do with the love of your life," he said, and with a theatrical wave of his hand, he gestured toward a figure within the restaurant.
I peered within, and immediately the most beautiful woman I had ever seen appeared before my eyes.
Her dark brown hair was long and lustrous. Her skin was perfect and radiant, the color of the first rose of spring. Her lips were soft and full and happy. The bones of her cheeks and the line of her jaw were at once both strong and ever-so-delicate. Her eyes were beyond any adequate description I could offer, but I thought that Narcissus himself would have drowned in them. And they were looking at me as if I were the only man in the world for her.

In an instant I found myself sitting next to her at the table. All the others were gone. We were alone.

I don't remember what I said to her, but her eyes embraced me and made me feel accepted, comfortable and confident. We seemed to float from the restaurant, and moments later found ourselves in a garden illuminated by multi-colored lights situated beneath the surging waters of a fountain. Our conversation was endearing, perfect in its rhythm and lovingly appropriate. Yet I cannot remember a word that each of us spoke.

I turned to her as we walked, and to my surprise, found that her eyes were closed. She was asleep.

This discovery shocked me and somehow upset me. I gently shook her shoulder until those loving eyes opened upon me. She muttered something that soothed and dispelled all my pained feelings. My heart surrendered to her again, as it would many times that night. We would walk or sit or stand, and each time I took my eyes from her for an instant , she would fall asleep. And each time it happened, I would awaken her with a gentle reproach. And each time she would soothe me with her eyes and some soft words which I cannot remember.

But I was becoming exasperated. When my eyes were off her,I thought of how disappointed I would be to find her asleep again, apart from me, leaving me alone in this strange world where I had been thrown to live out my life learning lessons of the heart that did everything but heal it of its deepest malady: its loneliness, its silently howling, unutterable despair over being abandoned in this vast, empty universe...without love...without the comfort and warmth of love.

Suddenly the Ancient One stood before us. I began to speak, but he approached and placed both his hands upon my shoulders For a moment I was silent, and then I said:
"She is asleep. She is elsewhere, dreaming of someone other than me. I cannot awaken her. What am I to do?"

He looked deeply into my eyes. Just as I realized that his eyes were her eyes, he spoke:
"But my dear young friend, this is your dream, for you are asleep."

SO, WHEN i TOLD THE GUY THAT NO ONE HAD OFFERED TO HELP WITH HIS PROBLEM, IN DESPAIR HE BOLTED TOWARD THE WINDOW TO JUMP THREE FLOORS TO THE PAVEMENT BELOW. I CAUGHT HIM JUST AS HE WAS ABOUT TO CLAMBER OVER THE WINDOW SILL. I GRABBED AND HELD ON TIGHT, BUT IN THE PROCESS TORE THE ROTATOR CUFF IN MY LEFT SHOULDER. I CRIED OUT IN PAIN BUT STILL MANAGED TO DRAG MY SUICIDAL PATIENT TO THE FLOOR WITH ME. i HUNG ON UNTIL HIS URGE TO JUMP HAD PASSED.
HOW IRONIC IT IS THAT, ALL MY CLEVER INTELLECTUAL STRATEGIES FAILED TO FREE HIM OF HIS SUICIDAL TENDENCIES, BUT INSTEAD IT WAS THE FACT THAT I PHYSICALLY TRIED TO KEEP HIM ALIVE THAT PRODUCED A STRONG EFFECT ON HIM.
NOW HE TELLS ME THAT HE WILL NOT KILL HIMSELF UNTIL MY SHOULDER INJURY HAS HEALED. AS A PROFESSIONAL PHYSICAL THERAPIST, HE FEELS OBLIGATED TO TAKE ME THROUGH THE MONTHS OF MANIPULATIONS AND EXERCISES REQUIRED TO MAKE MY SHOULDER AGAIN FUNCTIONAL. WHEN THAT IS ACCOMPLISHED, THEN HE WILL AGAIN PURSUE HIS GOAL OF ESCAPING ALL THOSE ACCUSATORY EYES WHO CONDEMN HIM FOR SOME CRIME HE CANNOT REMEMBER COMMITTING.,
SO, DEAR READERS, THANKS FOR YOUR INDIFFERENCE. SERENDIPITY HAS INTERVENED.😎

A demanding realization has come to me. An ongoing problem in proposing that people attend to self-knowledge through self-investigation is the assumption on the part of the neophyte that one has to become a depressive, self-doubting, self-flagellating wallflower. None of that is true.

Let us make a distinction between self-consciousness and self-awareness. The distinction is arbitrary. That means that for many people, there is no real distinction, but the neophyte may assess self-consciousness as that withdrawn, hesitant energy-sucking evaluation of oneself as wrong, unworthy, insignificant, and unlovable... That kind of judgmental self-evaluation is not necessary to the work we propose. Call it instead, self-awareness, a light-handed, non-judgmental, presence to oneself. Keep in mind that we are already present to ourselves. The "Work" is merely a matter of centering ourselves in this fundamental self-awareness. That is the beginning, and ironically, that is the end of the work, the true purpose. Wake up!

A famous man chided his companions on the night before his cruel persecution: "Could you not remain awake with me for these hours...?

Doing shadowork for our purposes is to practice the art of self-knowledge, and in doing so, we will unavoidably come upon our loves and hates. They will be the signposts to light our way to a deeper understanding of how much of the wold we co-create with the matrix in which we are immersed.