Shadow

Dear Eugene,

"I do not want to live on as a shadow of myself."

What is so wrong with my shadow?

If there's something wrong with it it's only because there's something wrong with my Self.  If I see in my shadow someone fat and lazy I surely don't want this Self of me, not now, not later, hopefully never.  What I can stand being hidden in my shadow is what I have been tolerating in my Self when the sun was at the top of my head and my Self and shadow were at one.

When the sun rises we see our silhouette cast out to propose a possible future path; when it goes down we see on the ground dark matter we left behind.  Mid-day is when living is happening, the present Presence comes out to play in reckless abandon.  Life is fragile but for a brief moment there's no shadow on the ground to remind us of that, to curb our enthusiasm.

What Hans Küng was getting at, I think, is the idea of "to live on" as if the shadow is the Self.  Imagine the shadow peels itself off from the ground and says to the Self, "Now it is your turn to go down and lay low, for a while."  For how long?  The Self won't even be conscious of a moment's passing; so she might as well accept it is for eternity, a perpetual present of an absence.  If someone is to step on the Self she won't know to care.

Care.  It sounds too obvious: the Self cares.  The Self cares if she is active or lazy, sick or robust, about meaning and dreams.  We live carelessly when there is no sun above us, the shadows are free to pull premature coup d'etat from all angles, and the blood on the ground doesn't even look red.

Yours, Alex