Moving Through Shadow

Dear Friend,

There is a strange paradox in yoga and meditation: the deeper we go, the more likely we are to encounter experiences that do not resemble what we initially came looking for. What can initially feel like a disruption of the practice may, in fact, be an important part of it. How we respond to these experiences can have a profound impact on how our practice develops.

Many people approach yoga or meditation as a "feel-good" activity, expecting stress relief, calmness, lightness, or simply good vibes. And these can certainly be worthwhile benefits of our efforts on the mat. However, a sign of progress can sometimes take a very different form.

When the Shadows Begin to Surface

As our habitual coping and defense mechanisms begin to loosen through effective practice, things that have been dormant may gradually surface—appearing as difficulty, discomfort, or unpleasantness, whether in the body as physical sensations or in the mind as thoughts and emotions.

I've heard several great teachers refer to these experiences as "shadows", and they can be valuable byproducts of sincere practice. They may arise as we come into contact with layers of unresolved impressions accumulated over years of living. In some yoga traditions, these latent impressions are known as saṃskāras, although the term is considerably broader and more complex than the contemporary idea of psychological "imprints."

"Shadow" is meant broadly in this context, rather than in its strictly Jungian sense: those less conscious aspects of ourselves—emotions, memories, fears, longings, sadness, and other uncomfortable or painful experiences—that may become more apparent when the usual distractions and defenses of the mind begin to quiet down.

This can be an important stage on the yoga path, yet one that can easily be disregarded or avoided. It often emerges after a period of consistent practice, when something begins to shift beneath the surface. Even those who approach yoga more casually may occasionally encounter it at least to some degree, which is why it can be helpful simply to be aware of the possibility.

Layers Beneath the Surface

A deep yoga and meditation process can, in some respects, resemble a medical or surgical procedure. It can sometimes feel like cutting through layers of unconscious, dormant psycho-physical scar tissue, in an attempt to loosen or remove sources of pain and suffering. From the perspective of many Eastern philosophical traditions, body and mind are not separate but exist along a continuum. Consequently, what manifests as the release of a psychological "knot" or "wound" may sometimes be accompanied by physical sensations, and vice versa.

Unlike a medical procedure, however, the process in yoga is rarely so direct or technically explicit. It tends to operate through indirect means: breathing, movement, posture, attention, and subtle-body exercises, organized into methods that have been refined and transmitted across generations.

This is not to say that every experience of pain or emotional struggle is a sign of progress or breakthrough. More often, there are identifiable causes: an injury, pressure at work, a difficult relationship, or a recent breakup. Life is full of events that can cause genuine distress.

Not All Pain Is Progress

As we engage more deeply with yoga, however, we gradually develop and refine the capacity to observe ourselves with greater objectivity—to discern between different feelings, sensations, thoughts, and states of mind. This is a skill that needs to be cultivated; it is not something most human beings are simply born with or intuitively possess. We are all, to some extent, caught in the narratives through which we interpret ourselves and our interactions with the world around us. Through continuous and skillful practice, we may gradually begin to let go of the grip that those stories have over us.

As we become more familiar with our inner workings, we can start to notice a distinction between ordinary difficulties, struggles, and pain that arise from identifiable circumstances, and other states that may emerge as part of a deeper process of psychological and spiritual transformation. It is difficult to explain this distinction in words because, on the surface, the two can appear and feel somewhat similar.

Yet as we become more attentive to repeated patterns of thinking, feeling, remembering, imagining, and reacting that shape our inner world, we may come to recognize when these patterns are not actually the source of what we are experiencing. Sometimes, there seems to be another process at work—something that moves through us in ways that are unfamiliar and cannot easily be traced to a clear cause. Its intensity may vary, and its effects differ according to the individual and their circumstances.

The "Body Karma" Theory

Years ago, I attended a month-long backbending intensive in India. Every day, for two and a half hours, I took part in a class focused on exploring deep ranges of backbending, often accompanied by extreme hip-openers and twists. In almost every session, at some point, someone would begin to cry, sometimes quite intensely. The general atmosphere in the room was one of appreciation for these effects, which were seen as expressions of deep release. Unfortunately, I did not experience anything of the sort. This led me to wonder whether I simply wasn't going deeply enough into the postures because of my general stiffness.

I was initially very skeptical when the teacher explained the concept of "body karma": the idea that experiences we go through in life are usually stored not only in the psyche but also, to some extent, in the body. We process experiences, digest them, and this can leave behind some residue—sometimes temporary, and sometimes, particularly after intense events or trauma, more persistent.

According to this view, this residue can manifest as tightness, tension, chronic pain, or other imbalances in the body, often said to be stored in areas such as the heart region, hips, shoulders, neck, or lower back. The theory is that when we enter full ranges of motion—particularly backbends, where the front of the body and the "heart" are opened—after years of physical and emotional contraction, the body may be forced either to resist or to surrender and release the so-called "knot".

I remain skeptical of some of these simplistic theories, but not of the phenomenon itself, which I have witnessed many times and experienced myself. People can clearly have a broad spectrum of emotional responses during an intense physical practice, often much more subtle than outward crying. What is much less clear is what those responses mean, or what mechanisms produce them. I sometimes suspect that some of the explanations suggested by certain yoga teachers are simply appealing narratives used to encourage people to engage in extremely challenging physical positions, which can just as easily produce harmful effects as beneficial ones, or convince them to keep coming back with a promise of a big reward. Then again, perhaps I am being too cynical.

Encountering the Shadow

My own experience of dealing with these "shadows" usually arises during retreats. For a number of years, I attended a ten-day Vipassana meditation retreat annually. More recently, I have started doing self-retreats, following a varied schedule that I created for myself, which is much better suited to where I currently am in my practice.

What usually happens when I go on retreat is that the first few days are extremely challenging. Waves of sadness, loneliness, nostalgia, and sometimes even anger tend to flood in. There may also be pain in the body, disrupted sleep, or digestive issues.

After having been through several retreats, I already have some understanding of how these states arise, although knowing this on an intellectual level does not necessarily make it easier. I still occasionally find myself getting swept up in these waves.

It can feel as though the part of the mind that constantly seeks distraction and stimulation is fighting for survival. It recognizes that something deliberate is underway—an attempt to quiet it, to still the stormy waters that normally keep it in motion—and it resists. It tries to distract, discourage, and divert attention.

The way I respond during those first few days of transitioning into retreat mode may be the most important part of the entire retreat. In many ways, this is where the more transformational work takes place.

The Impulse to Resist

The immediate tendency is to fight back—to suppress, resist, or push away whatever feels uncomfortable. This is an ingrained human tendency: when something feels unpleasant, we instinctively try to get rid of it. And it makes a lot of sense. Why wouldn't we? 

But contemplative practices give us an invaluable opportunity to examine this reflex rather than automatically acting on it. Does this resistance actually serve us? What happens if, instead of trying to change how we feel, we simply observe it and allow it to run its course without becoming entangled in it?

When we encounter what might be called a "shadow", we can try to meet it with attentiveness and curiosity.

We may discover that there is an initial pain or difficulty, and then there is our reaction to it—a second layer that can add considerably to the original suffering. There is the unpleasant sensation, and then there is the resistance to having that sensation. There is sadness, and then there is the thought, “I shouldn’t be sad.” There is fear, and then there is the fear of feeling fear.

I keep reminding myself not to push these experiences away, but instead to make space for them—to sit with them, to be with them, and, most importantly, to become more familiar with them.

Meeting the Shadows with Equanimity

The practice of equanimity (upekkhā), commonly taught across Buddhist traditions, becomes particularly valuable in these situations. We can approach difficulty as a practice: an opportunity to cultivate the capacity to remain steady while the winds of body and mind push and pull our attention in every direction.

Like acquiring any skill, this requires repetition, dedication, and a long-term perspective.

Equanimity is not indifference, and non-reactivity should not be confused with passivity. It doesn't mean that we stop responding to what is happening. It means creating enough space between sensation and reflex so that our responses to what is happening are no longer dictated entirely by habit.

Learning to Be with Discomfort

We can prepare ourselves, at least to some degree, by occasionally practicing staying with discomfort without immediately reacting to it—even if only for a few moments at a time. I wouldn't recommend attempting this with severe pain in the body or overwhelming emotional distress. It is better to start with something mild: a small physical discomfort, a passing unsettling thought, an unpleasant feeling, or a subtle sense of restlessness. 

How does it feel?

Can you notice the discomfort without trying to get rid of it?

Can you notice the urge to react without automatically acting on it?

Can you notice thoughts that arise without immediately believing them?

Simply allow the impulse to react to be there, while remaining aware of it from moment to moment.

With repeated attempts, you may begin to notice something interesting. The reaction hesitates. It becomes less automatic, more cautious—almost as if it is waiting for permission.

When that moment comes, simply let the impulse be there without acting on it.

This is not the same as blocking or suppressing. There is no active pushing away. Instead, there is a quality of inner steadiness: an evenness, a solid foundation from which we can remain at ease, soft, and receptive.

When this gap emerges and automatic reactivity gradually weakens, we start to discover something important: discomfort and unpleasantness eventually pass. They are not permanent, even though there is often an underlying part of us that worries they might be.

In fact, we may find that learning to remain steady in the midst of transient difficulties has a cumulative effect. One moment of steadiness can make the next one a little easier, gradually giving rise to greater calm, greater ease, and a greater sense of inner stability.

The process is not linear. At times it can feel more like a roller coaster: one moment immersed in agony and despair, the next in a state of almost blissful tranquility. Yet when viewed from the broader perspective of a lifelong practice, a more linear trajectory may become apparent—a gradual movement toward greater inner peace and contentment. Individual steps along the way, however, do not always feel that way.

Bringing This into Ordinary Life

Of course, committing fully to contemplative practices such as yoga and meditation is not suitable for everyone. Most of us already have a lot on our plates: careers, families, relationships, hobbies, and countless other things that truly matter.

Nevertheless, even those who approach yoga more casually will likely encounter a "shadow" at some point, often when they least expect it. It may happen while holding a yoga posture, during a breathing exercise, while sitting in meditation, or even in the moment after practice, as we step back onto a busy urban street.

The Obstacle is the Practice

And perhaps this is one of the most underappreciated fruits of an effective yoga practice: not that it removes the difficult parts of life, but that it gradually teaches us that we do not have to be carried away by them.

We may discover that we have far more capacity than we imagined to stay with the shadow without becoming lost in it and without pushing it away. We can allow discomfort to be felt without immediately turning it into a problem that needs to be solved.

This is what learning to move through the shadow ultimately gives us: not freedom from difficult experience, but freedom from the compulsion to resist it. Rather than generating tension and constriction, we can learn to remain present, receptive, and at ease.

Sometimes, what initially appears to be an obstacle is the practice.

If you find yourself curious about these kinds of topics - join a workshop, a retreat, or any other event on offer.

Looking forward to sharing yoga with you!

Wishing everyone peace and happiness,

♡ Oren

Check out the entire Newsletter:

https://preview.mailerlite.io/preview/2057060/emails/195036336044901903