Chatting with my shadow Self

In the vast stillness beyond time and space, where the soul lingers in quiet contemplation, an eternal Self, whole and unbroken, is continuously knowing itself. In this process of expansion, it meets the sides of itself that are still on the shadow and call for love, that seek embrace and integration.

When the time is right, it brings forth a part of itself into existence, allowing for direct communication and a warm reunion. One day the Self accidentally notices one of his shadows, hiding in a dark corner. The shadow keeps avoiding, hiding and protecting itself from the Self. Thus the dialogue begins.

“Who are you, shadow, that is so fiercely protective of yourself? That resists feeling my criticism? That fears judgment so intensely? Who are you?”

A shiver in the dark. No words are spoken, just a slight pulling away, like a child hiding in the shadows. Something cold brushes the mind — a memory of mean words that left a deep mark.

“Who are you, the part of myself that turns away from my suffering, who recoils when I express my pain? Who are you, the one who flees at the sight of my intense emotions, trembling in their presence?”

A ripple in the silence. A shiver, then calmness returns.

“Who are you, the part of me that refuses to understand but longs to be understood? The one so skilled at protecting your own boundaries, so attuned to shielding yourself from discomfort? Who are you, so afraid to open up, to be seen, to be vulnerable?”

The shadow answers with absolute silence. Then, barely perceptible, something like a heartbeat quickening in the dark.

The Self listens, and with a voice steady and gentle, it speaks again. “I see you, this hidden part of myself. I feel your presence profoundly, and I wish to care for you. I encourage you to emerge, to show yourself completely. I wish to cradle you gently, to soothe you, to help you feel secure and warm.”

A warmth radiates back, hesitant but present. Something begins to loosen from its tight cocoon. A tremor moves through it, not from fear this time, but from recognition.

This internal dialogue drags on and on, spanning for decades, leaving the Self torn between seeking answers and accepting the silence.

“I perceive you as small, yet you hold great significance for me. There are times when your silence causes me pain, when you retreat and say nothing. However, I am learning to give you space and to respect your presence. But I still struggle with the tension of wanting to draw you closer, unsure if I’m doing the right thing.”

A soft glow begins to form, pulsing gently like breath.

“I will listen. I will honor you. You do not need to hide anymore.”

The Self breathes in the presence, wrapping it in warmth.

“I choose to give you form, a name, a presence that you can inhabit, it will be easier to continue our conversations.

The light coalesces, taking shape. A beautiful woman stands where once was only shadow. Her face bears a strong and distinctive nose — the same nose the self knows as its own, a feature that carries ancestral memory and character. Her skin holds the same subtle marks that tell stories of sun and time — a perfect mirror of the Self’s own complexion, as if carved from the same essence. But it is her eyes that speak the loudest — deep brown, holding both wisdom and wounds. Her hair falls in dark waves past her shoulders. Her posture remains guarded, one foot slightly behind the other as if prepared for retreat. When she breathes, it comes unevenly as if she’s been underwater too long.

The recognition of the Self in the other creates a magnetic pull, an aesthetic appreciation of what was once hidden, now revealed in form.

“What’s your name?” the Self asks with curiosity.

The woman shifts, her small lips parting slowly. “Karla,” she rasps, her voice hoarse and unsteady, like a door creaking open after years of rust. Her mouth closes again, as if the word took effort, she’d forgotten how to give.

“Karla…” the Self echoes. “So familiar.”

“I’ve been here, waiting. A long time. Why’d you leave me in the dark?”

The Self pauses, breath catching. “I… I was not ready to look at you, I was too afraid, it was too cold down here. But now — ” A beat. “Now I am ready to see you. I hear you. And I want you here, fully.”

“Do you even know me?” Karla asks, quieter now, her lips barely moving.

The Self smiles, almost uncertain. “You’re the one who guards my soft spots, aren’t you? Who keeps my feelings from swallowing me whole. Who sets boundaries to protect the parts of me that are still too fragile.”

“Yeah, you’re a mess without me.” Her voice is rough but warm, as if she’s remembering how to speak. She smiles.

“And what if I fail? What if I cannot be what you need me to be?” A small furrow appears between her brows. the question matters deeply to her.

The Self’s voice is softening. “Hey you are not here to be perfect. You are here to be known. To be loved. To be embraced. In seeing you, I expand. In integrating you, I grow. In loving you, I become whole.”

A long silence stretches between them. Karla’s breathing changes — deeper now, regular. She reaches out one hand, stopping midway, palm upward in an offering gesture. “Then let us walk together for a bit.”

She grins, as if she knows this is just a little game they are playing. But before she fades, she exhales a breath that carries a quiet understanding, a moment of gratitude.

“All I ever wanted was for you to look my way..” She finally whispers.

And then, she starts to blur at the edges and drifts into nothingness, a shadow folding back into light.

For there is no Karla, there never was. Just reflections folding into themselves, voices merging into one.

“Turns out, it’s just me talking to me all along..”

The Self continues on its path, embracing what was once hidden, speaking to what was once silent, knowing that in this union, it will continue to expand and transcend itself.