Want more posts like this in your life? Join the Tiny Buddha list for daily or weekly insights.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cThere is a crack in everything, that\u2019s how the light gets in.\u201d ~Leonard Cohen<\/strong><\/p>\n When depression comes, I feel it like a prowler gliding through my body. My chest tightens, my head fills with dark whispers, and even the day feels like night. The prowler has no face, no clear shape, but its presence is heavy. Sometimes it circles in silence within me. Other times it presses in until I don\u2019t know how to respond.<\/p>\n In those moments, I feel caught between two choices: do I lie still, hoping it passes by, or do I rise and face it? Often, I choose lying down\u2014not out of paralysis but patience. Sometimes the only way to coexist with the shadow is to rest, to surrender for a while, to let sleep take me. And sometimes, when I wake, I feel a little lighter. Not free of the prowler but reminded that it is possible to live alongside it.<\/p>\n Carl Jung once wrote,\u00a0\u201cEveryone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in our conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.\u201d<\/em>\u00a0I know this to be true. The more I try to push my depression away, the heavier it becomes. But when I bring awareness\u2014even reluctant awareness\u2014its power weakens.<\/p>\n The shadow is not only my enemy. It also serves as a teacher. Depression forces me to face the parts of myself I would rather outrun: shame, grief, fear, anger, discontent. But it also carries hidden truths. Jung suggested that the shadow holds not just what we reject but also forgotten strengths and possibilities.<\/p>\n For me, the shadow\u2019s message is humility. It reminds me I am not in control, that I can\u2019t polish myself into perfection. It pushes me to listen more deeply\u2014to the pain I carry and the struggles I see in others. It insists that healing doesn\u2019t come from pretending the darkness isn\u2019t there. It comes from being willing to see it.<\/p>\n Buddhism gives me another way to see this. The Buddha taught that suffering doesn\u2019t just come from clinging to what we crave; it also comes from turning away from what we don\u2019t want to face. That turning away is called\u00a0aversion<\/em>.<\/p>\n When the prowler moves through me, my instinct is always to turn away. I want to push it out, distract myself, pretend it isn\u2019t there. But each time I run from it, the shadow grows stronger.<\/p>\n In meditation, I practice staying. I sit and breathe, whispering silently,\u00a0\u201cMay I be free from fear. May I be at peace.\u201d<\/em> I\u2019ll be honest, sometimes these words feel empty or even silly. They don\u2019t always lift me. But saying them creates a pause\u2014a moment of willingness to stay instead of running. The prowler doesn\u2019t vanish, but it softens a little under the light of compassion.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve also discovered that my documentary work\u2014filmmaking, writing, teaching\u2014is only authentic when I acknowledge the shadow. My camera becomes a mirror. When I pretend everything is light, the images feel flat. But when I allow the complexity of shadow into my seeing, the work has depth.<\/p>\n When I sit with people to listen to their stories, I often sense their shadows too\u2014grief unspoken, fear beneath the surface, contradictions in how they see themselves. I can recognize those shadows because I have lived with mine. Facing my own shadow allows me to meet others with greater truth and compassion.<\/p>\n To create honestly means letting the shadow into the frame. Without it, there\u2019s no contrast, no tension, no truth.<\/p>\n One of the greatest gifts in my life now is caregiving for my ninety-six-year-old mother. These small daily acts bring moments of unexpected reprieve.<\/p>\n I remember one morning, bringing her a simple breakfast\u2014just toast and tea. She looked at me and smiled, her face lighting up with gratitude. In that moment, the prowler loosened its grip. It was such a small thing, yet it fed the part of me that wanted to live.<\/p>\n Playing her old-time tunes on my Gibson mandolin does the same. When I see her foot tapping or hear her hum along, something shifts inside me. Caregiving sheds light into the darker places of my heart. The simplicity of preparing food or sharing music reminds me that love and service are stronger than despair. These acts don\u2019t erase the shadow, but they bring balance, showing me I am more than my depression.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve come to see that I sometimes feed my depression. Not on purpose, but through worry, anxiety, and rumination. Each time I circle the same fears, I am handing the prowler a meal.<\/p>\n And then there are other times when I feed something else. The words of meditation may feel hollow, the wolf story may sound idealistic, but the simple acts are real: making my mother breakfast, playing her a mandolin tune, writing with honesty, or even just breathing one steady breath.<\/p>\n It reminds me of the well-known story of two wolves: A grandfather told his grandson that inside each of us are two wolves. One is fierce and destructive, filled with anger, envy, fear, and despair. The other is peaceful and life-giving, filled with compassion, hope, and love. The boy asked, \u201cWhich one will win?\u201d<\/em>\u00a0The grandfather replied,\u00a0\u201cThe one you feed.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n For me, both wolves are real. The prowler and the peaceful one live side by side. I don\u2019t deny my depression. I know it is part of me. But I also know I can choose, moment by moment, which one I will feed.<\/p>\n The prowler still comes. I suspect it always will. Some days it circles silently like a vulture. Other days it urges me to lie down and surrender. And sometimes, when I wake, I feel a small relief\u2014a reminder that coexistence is possible.<\/p>\n This is what presence has come to mean for me. Presence is not escaping into light or denying the dark. Presence is staying with what is\u2014the prowler, the heaviness, the caregiving, the fear. It means breathing with it, resting with it, even sleeping with it, without running away.<\/p>\n Both Jung and the Buddha point in this direction. Jung says we cannot become whole without making the darkness conscious. The Buddha says we cannot be free if we turn away in aversion. And I have learned that I cannot create or care for others or live fully if I refuse to face the prowler inside me.<\/p>\n So I continue step by step. I breathe. I stay. I rest. I create. I bring my mother breakfast. I play her mandolin tunes. I feed the peaceful wolf. I coexist. The shadow still prowls, but I am here too\u2014more awake, more human, more present.<\/p>\nThe Shadow as Teacher<\/strong><\/h3>\n
Buddhism and the Prowler<\/strong><\/h3>\n
Creativity and the Shadow<\/strong><\/h3>\n
Caregiving as Light<\/strong><\/h3>\n
Feeding the Shadow, Feeding the Light<\/strong><\/h3>\n
Presence with the Shadow<\/strong><\/h3>\n
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