Me and my shadow – now you see me, now you don’t.

[Commemorative Essay on the 2nd Anniversary of MODS in Geylang. It was in the quiet park overlooking the city of Zurich where “modalities” found its resting place in the dog-house of my soul.]

Lindenhof, 12 October 2017

If all I had was a shadow to go on, what could I tell about your life, or the impact you are having in your marriage, on your child or in the community where you are active?

What could you know about me from my shadow? You could guess at my gender, my height, my weight but little else I suspect. It is a glimpse of the outer man, the shell of his existence that reveals even less about motive, consciousness and purpose.

Me and my shadow have a beginning and travel along together on an indeterminate path where every step leads to and discovers new things that we were not aware of from the start.

But just what can you tell about that man from his shadow? Every shadow tells a story and while the shadow itself may be in constant flux, his story remains fixed and constant and solid.

There is a grace given to each regardless of race, religion, nationality or ethnicity. Nationality is where you live, religion is why you care but modality is why you matter. A shadow is cast, an impression is made over the entirety of a lifetime. And yet what you know about the soul remains enigmatic like the shadows that follow your every move.

From dawn to the lengthening of days your shadow grows taller and shorter as the sun rises higher until it disappears completely. And as quickly as it disappears so does this ever faithful companion, as a dark moon that waxes and wanes and waxes again.

Your dark shadow is your consequential you, it is not elemental. Your person likewise makes an impression on others like a shadow that grows smaller or bigger depending of where you stand. You are not your shadow, the elemental is not the consequential and is not defined by it.

This is a worthy thought, that while your shadow journeys with you all of your life it is not an accurate description of your elemental self. Your shadow is only an image and – an image that may or may not reflect the whole truth about your personhood.

What is the truth about you? Who are you in reality beyond your reputation, your possessions and your impressive career? This is the solitary question that continues to keep you up at night like a stray that can’t find the dog-house.

Travel can only assuage the hunger for self-knowledge but cannot tame it. Self-awareness is a principle driver behind higher education but a paper degree says so little about the fire in your bones.

Work itself is a worthy pursuit but creativity likewise is consequential, not elemental. A painting, no matter how valuable, is a cracked mirror when it comes to revealing what is true. Ontology eats opinions for lunch.

A boomerang likewise cannot fully explain or describe its ingenious creator. There is a part of me, (my indigenous self), that others observe, tall or short, rich or poor, calm or frenetic – these are observable traits cast in the mind of others that we love, fear or hate.

Even our present experience of each other is an outdated map or guide to the human soul. What we know of our neighbour may lead us to love, fear or hate the man without ever coming close to his elemental motive of why he acts thus and thus.

These are shadows that play upon the walls of the mind that cause anxiety or gives a sense of relief. These are fleeting emotions that cannot be reliable judges of our actions, either others or our own. Judgement must be suspended until all the evidence comes in.

And when shadow combines with shadow to form loud and angry mobs, the soul recoils in shock. This is the shock of offence and the beginning of terror. Why should we live in such fear? Neighbor turns against neighbor without ever drawing close to the elemental truth of one’s neighbor.

These are the myths we store within ourselves that imprisons us to a solitary existence, a lonely place. We cannot break out because we have believed in a lie. The shadows are myths that we believe to be the whole truth when in fact they are just what they are – shadows. We have become men who are afraid of their own shadows and those of our neighbors.

While shadows dance and flicker in our mind’s eye, they cannot be the ground of truth. What can be known of a person is far more than his shadow will tell. Personhood casts shadows that are often misleading. This is the foundation of bias, prejudice and preference.

These are natural blindspots that keep us from the intimacy we crave, the more we embrace our neighbor’s shadow, the less we know of his or her true self. The soul has an uncanny gift of misdirecting your attention like a magician who uses slight of hand. Now you see me, now you don’t.

What a thousand years of psychology, examined from every angle, from childhood trauma to adolescent delinquency to the dereliction’s of sinful passivity, aggression or immaturity, can be summed up in this single idea.

These are types of a reality that the science of mind and human behaviour can never fully comprehend. You can draw your own conclusions but these are tentative at best. They will always nearly lead you down a dead-end. The truth of a human cannot be judged by action alone. The world judges a man by his actions, that is axiomatic and self-evident but ultimate reality is not for me or anyone to judge.

Whether for better or worse, a man’s reputation preceeds him and may indeed ruin his chances of getting ahead. Experience does not always guarantee success. Your perception of a man is not always God’s reality.

Once a man came upon some broken down boats, hardly recognisable and washed ashore. Could you tell anything of the journey’s this boat has been through outside the harbour?

Where was she crafted to sail? Who was she destined to carry and its original purpose for her owner? If you examined her, you might be able to tell something about that wreck, some thing of its fine history, something of her reputation and her journey, who had sailed her and what storms had she weathered in times past.

The soul is like that storm tossed boat, almost unrecognisable but as seaworthy as from the beginning, crafted in perfection yet weathered by wind and wave and circumstance.

Likewise, the journey of your soul.