I put on boxing gloves and hit my roommate in the face. It was the best therapy I ever had.
Learning to Dance with the Dark Side of Ourselves
The first hit in my face hurt, but I didn't really feel the pain. I was in utter disbelief. He hit me. He really hit me, in the face.
I don't know why it actually surprised me. I was standing in the middle of my empty living room, professional mouthguards protecting my teeth, strapped into semi-professional boxing gloves—same as my roommate. From the outside, it looked like we were really boxing, and that was what we had agreed on. I just didn't believe it until he hit me.
And while I was thinking all these thoughts, the second hit landed. Again, my face. This time it really hurt.
That was when I felt a long-absent emotion boiling up from deep down.
Anger. With a hint of rage.
"You don't get to hit me like that" was the thought that drove my uppercut.
Two minutes later, we agreed to stop because it became painfully clear that we would really hurt each other.
Hunting My Shadows
At that time, I was on a quest to find my shadows—my hidden and suppressed emotions, the parts that I had locked away for whatever reasons. During that process, I realized that I never got mad. This didn't seem like a healthy way of dealing with frustration, and this was long before my meditation journey began. So I went out and tried a crazy amount of things to get back in touch with my anger.
Boxing did the trick.
But here's the thing about shadows—they're sneaky. Just when you think you've found one, another emerges from a different corner. Anger was just the beginning of my archaeological dig into the dark parts of myself.
A bit later, I came to realize that I used envy as a substitute emotion—an emotion I wouldn't necessarily show in public but would at least be aware of. What if the parts of ourselves we try to hide are actually the keys to our growth?
I envied a lot of people for a lot of things. But I'd rather judge them than admit that I wanted to have all of that too. It became a decade-long process to work through that, and it became, in part, the fuel to follow my desires and grow into a multipassionate person who is owning and accepting his interests and curiosities.
The irony wasn't lost on me—I was judging people for having exactly what I secretly craved. It's like being angry at someone for eating ice cream while you're on a diet you imposed on yourself. The real question became: what was I dieting myself from, and why?
It's fascinating how many different limiting emotions we carry with us: the envy of people farther along the path than us, the fear of "not being good enough" or "being found out," the shame of not fitting in, the doubts of morality. What Brad Blanton calls the prison of the mind—and what Carl Gustav Jung calls the "shadow"—the parts of ourselves we repress, deny, or feel ashamed of.
The Invitation to Wholeness
Jung was a proponent of owning that shadow. According to him, it is not only the striving for the good and noble, but the awareness and acceptance of the dark and wicked.
Through years of reading, trying, and discussions with mentors and people much smarter than me, I realized that the reasons why these shadows develop(ed) is of less relevance. That almost trendy focus on finding triggering and traumatic events in one's past doesn't seem very fruitful and helpful to me—quite the contrary.
I like Alfred Adler's approach: taking what currently is—your shadowy emotions—and turning them into drivers that work toward your growth. It is forward-focused action, not backward-focused contemplation. A lot like the martial art Aikido that I used to practice for a while, which takes the attacker's energy and turns it into motion against the attacker. Aikido masters never attack. It is the most elegant and calm way of self-defense I have seen so far.
That is what I strive for on an experiential level—being the Aikido master to my emotions. When they come for my sanity, I take their energy and direct it toward something purposeful.
The Drive to Belong
According to Adler, our human core drive is to belong and to contribute. When we feel that we don't belong, that we don't fit in, or feel inferior or unappreciated, then shadowy feelings like envy and anger are natural responses. Whether they turn into anxiety or achievement depends on how you use their energy.
And that is the hopeful bit here: This is your decision. This is something you can learn.
So rather than trying—desperately, hopelessly—to eliminate the shadow, accept it, learn from it, and turn its energy into creative striving and contribution.
We are not monolithic personalities. We are ever-changing and adapting mosaics. We are made up of many, sometimes contradicting parts—let's embrace that complexity, as this is what allows us to live a multipassionate renaissance life.
What if your scattered interests aren't a bug in your system, but a feature? What if having "too many" passions is actually your secret weapon in a world that rewards unique combinations over single-note expertise? What if wanting to have it all is actually ok?
When we live out loud all of our facets, our contribution becomes the result of our unique combination of strengths. And that ultimately brings the feeling of true belonging we were afraid of losing by suppressing that uniqueness.
The absurdity of our ridiculous tendency of losing by trying everything not to lose—the definition of a self-fulfilling prophecy—sometimes breaks my mind. And then I have to laugh about myself and us as a species.
Practical Shadow Work
As a practical reflection, ask yourself:
What is my shadow trying to teach me? How can I use envy or comparison as a guide to my next step?
Use your own frustrations as an unfair advantage and secret energy pack.
Here are some prompts that I found helpful for reflecting on that:
• Recent Envy Check: What is a recent moment of envy or comparison? What's the hidden desire or value underneath?
• Identity Mapping: List your different identities/roles. How do they interact? Where do they conflict and why? Where do they support each other?
• Shadow Sharing: Share your shadow with your partner or a trusted friend—healing happens in relationship.
The most powerful shadow work isn't done in isolation. It happens when we risk being seen—really seen—by someone who can hold space for all of our contradictions and still choose to stay.
I am curious to hear about your shadow stories.
To more in life,
Nicco
Shadow dancing…