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Once upon a time, there were two shadows in my life. The one that the sun cast behind me as I walked through life and the one I cast inside me as I grew into my story.

The shadow cast by the sun I loved and I smiled to see. I smiled because it showed that I had substance, form and that I held a space in my world. It showed me how bright everything was and that it was okay to have a dark contrast to that as long as it always remained at my feet. I loved that that it did and didn’t resemble me and that I recognised it always. It changing was a constant, from short to long, slim to squat, but its changes never impacted me or how I felt. It was just a necessary companion, a light gauge of every day.

The shadow cast by me had many a similar quality. It too was a part of me that showed up in the light, a shape that resembled me but wasn’t me. But the problem was that as I tried to shine my light brighter outside of me, I gave the shadow more space inside of me. It didn’t remain at my feet, but rose and rose into its own sense of form. And the more space it took, the more it resembled me. And the more familiar it looked, the more I thought it was my truth. So I loved it as my main being. And as it changed, so I changed until it became part of my structure, as meaningful to my life as my muscles and bones. And I was a damsel in distress with but a flicker of light inside.

In everyone’s story, there are indeed two shadows. The one outside keeps us mindful of the one inside. And like the one which bounces along pavements and fields comes from the sunshine, from light that nourishes us from without, the inner shadow bouncing along on memories and dreams need to come from a inner luminescence. It needs to come from a glow of nourishing light from inside out. Both shadows are important, reminding us of how we are shining and taking form and creating contrast. But neither should be the hero, no matter how comforting they seem and nor should they determine how the story ends. Your story should be written by your light, embracing your shadow as your light-gauge, not written from your darkness as your light slowly extinguishes.

beauty-deprived

shadows

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