Befriend What Lurks in the Shadow

Or, what Buddhist mythology and the Moon teach us about fear

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I’ve been working with tarot for ten years and teaching English for eight. It wasn’t until a couple years ago that I dared to mention tarot to a colleague - one of my besties in the department who has become one of my most trusted and beloved friends.

And just last year, when I launched this Substack, I finally began to share my writing more widely in spaces like social media where certain friendlier colleagues and - the horror! - relatives might see it.

But I had never even remotely entertained the possibility of talking about tarot on campus, either in passing or more formally in my capacity as a professor, either to colleagues or students. I wasn’t keeping my writing a secret per se, but I certainly wasn’t bringing it up, advertising it, or giving voice to it in any real way at work. Most notably, I was acting this way despite fellow faculty - also writers and poets - openly and proudly sharing their work on campus and counting their publishing wins and milestones (and rightfully so!) as coups for the department.

While some people don’t mind compartmentalizing certain aspects of their lives and might even prefer to keep various things in neat and separate lanes for all sorts of positive reasons, that’s not what I’ve been doing. Simply put, I’m insecure about tarot in certain circles and fear judgment and rejection by others: She writes about what? I can’t believe she’s spending her time on that! That doesn’t count! What on earth is she thinking!? That’s so embarrassing.

The parts of us, whatever they may be, that we deem unacceptable and that bring us fear, shame, or self-judgment are often referred to as our shadow. While the term shadow sometimes refers to repressed emotions or even subconscious wounds and desires, the concept of our shadow can also encapsulate our more conscious tendencies of self-suppression and hiding.

In Radical Acceptance: Embracing Your Life with the Heart of a Buddha (that’s an affiliate link by the way), psychotherapist and Buddhist teacher Tara Brach explains:

Our families and culture let us know early on which qualities of human nature are valued and which are frowned upon. Because we want to be accepted and loved, we try to fashion and present a self that will attract others and secure our belonging.…

The shadow becomes a force in our psyche as we regularly exile the emotions that could elicit rejection from others.

Over time, we internalize these voices of rejection such that they automatically play in the background of our lives, without anybody having to actually say anything, any time we stray from the herd, embrace our shadow, or express a part of us that is different, uncomfortable, or potentially problematic.

In my case, in the world of academia, law, rationality, logic, and intellect (not to mention Christianity), the mystical, intuitive, irrational, and emotional qualities of a tarot practitioner are often frowned upon and even ridiculed. It’s not entirely surprising to me that I would “exile” these particular values or emotions in favor of a sense of security and “belonging.”

At the same time, however, I always find my way back to writing, and I love sharing tarot with others. And there’s the rub, I told my therapist.

She replied, “I’m hearing that you want to become a successful writer, and I’m also hearing that you’d prefer that nobody knew about your writing. Do you see how those two desires are incompatible?”

We concluded that the only way for me to get over my cringe was to compassionately acknowledge my fear of putting myself out there, and then pull up my big girl pants and do it anyway. In other words, I just needed more practice.

Tara Brach explains it this way:

"By running from what we fear, we feed the inner darkness. Whenever we reject part of our being, we are confirming to ourselves our fundamental unworthiness.

Inversely then, if we stop avoiding things that make us feel uncomfortable, we get better at opening ourselves up to the discomfort, meeting it with courage and compassion, and gaining the confidence that we will survive.

So a few weeks ago, at the start of spring semester, I passed out blank index cards to each student, like I often do the first week of class, and asked them to write their name on the front and a few key facts about themselves on the back to help me get to know them:

1. their pronouns

2. their major or career path

3. a non-academic interest or hobby

It is inexplicable yet remarkable how I can’t for the life of me remember that the kid with the great hair in the back is named Jason until he tells me he’s a Business Admin major. Or why the sweet quiet guy in the front would remain nameless in my mind forever until he tells me EDM is his favorite music and now he is so utterly and obviously a Matthew. What one fact has to do with the other remains a mystery, but so it is.

(These index cards also come in handy when my students band together to try the ol’ make-no-eye-contact-and-she’ll-forget-she-asked-us-a-question-and-move-on gambit. I just grab them and start shuffling and suddenly a merciful hand goes up and the discussion moves forward.)

So anyway, as the index cards were being passed around the room, I wrote my own answers up on the board to remind them of the task at hand but also as a mutual exchange of information:

1. Prof. Aboulian (she/her)

2. English

3. Tarot cards

I snapped the cap of my dry-erase marker back on, turned around with a silent smile, walked back over to my podium, and moved my attention to some paperwork as the students filled out their cards. I did it with the calm and confidence of administrative routine, as if this were the fifth white board that day on which I had written these same words without giving them a second thought, even though on the inside, I was trying to keep my breath steady and steel myself for reactions.

A shuffle.

A couple whispers.

A giggle of amusement, perhaps even delight?

And then, just like that, the classroom filled back up with the silent apathy of college students. I had never been more grateful for the fact that my students are at any given moment only half-listening to the things I am saying to them.

And so, “tarot cards” remained up on the board in big blue block letters for over thirty minutes for every person known to mankind to walk into my classroom and see in all its glory. Emboldened by the fact that I had neither thrown up nor been stoned to death, I even brought up tarot again in the same way I freely do when relevant facts or stories about other subjects pop into my head during class discussions. When my student Leah shared that Tyler, the Creator was her favorite musical artist, I asked if she had seen the tarot-themed art prints that were part of his merch line. Turns out she hadn’t. She told me later that she looked them up and they were “cool.”

(Image credit: Siddhartha Under the Bodhi Tree by Maria Mikhailas)

This entire episode, a small step for mankind but a giant leap for me, might seem silly upon first glance, but it - and any version of it that you may experience in your own life - is actually a mundane, small-scale example of a pretty profound lesson with roots in Buddhist mythology. Namely, the myth of how Siddhartha Gautama became the Buddha.

Siddhartha spent much of his youth (partly due to his father’s extreme helicopter parenting) either clinging to desirable experiences or running away from painful ones. But eventually, during his quest for spiritual freedom and peace, he sat down under the now famous bodhi tree with a single goal: to stop striving for any particular feeling or experience and simply open up to all that was present.

During this trial under the bodhi tree, Siddhartha faced the god Mara, who represents every facet of mankind’s shadow. As Tara Brach tells the tale:

Throughout the night, Siddhartha was assaulted by the armies of Mara, and showered with arrows of greed and hatred. As he met each with an open and tender heart, it was transformed into a flower blossom that drifted gently to his feet. With the passing hours, the mound of fragrant petals grew, and Siddhartha became increasingly peaceful and clear.

Instead of hiding or running away from his shadow aspects, Siddhartha met them openly and tenderly. He eventually achieved peace and clarity not because the horrors or negativity ceased, but because he learned how to respond to them.

A similar lesson is presented to us by the Moon card in tarot.

In the Moon tarot card, at least in the Rider-Waite-Smith version, underneath the light of a giant moon, we see a dog - our socially acceptable side - standing next to a wolf - our wilder and unacceptable shadow side. The healing message in this card is that both creatures are illuminated equally. They face each other as equals, as two necessary halves of a beautiful, vulnerable, and complex whole. There is no need to fight our shadow, the Moon card says.

In the words of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, “Don’t fight darkness—bring the light, and darkness will disappear.”

The full moon is often hailed as a particularly intense and emotional time in the lunar cycle because it is believed that the moon, shining at its brightest in this phase, illuminates - sometimes against our will - what we have exiled into our shadow. But facing our fears, bringing light to them instead of turning and even running away from them, is how we heal. That is also why full moon energy, in addition to feeling uncomfortable sometimes, can also feel cathartic and cleansing.

So when the Moon card, the patron tarot card of Pisces season, shows up in a reading, we aren’t just being told there are fears and mysteries hiding in the shadow. We are being invited to pause, open our hearts, and investigate a bit. Because the best way to befriend what lurks in the shadow is to turn on the light.

I have two shadow work related tarot spreads for you to try this week! One is a quick and easy tarot reading centered around the Moon card that I recently shared on Instagram but will also walk you through below. And the other is a tarot spread inspired by this week’s tarot musings, created exclusively for my paid subscribers!

(And this probably goes without saying, but if the things you struggle to embrace about yourself go beyond the anxieties and insecurities that we all must overcome from time to time and instead involve deep pain, thoughts of self-harm, trauma or past abuse, please enlist the help of a medical professional like a licensed therapist who is trained to guide us through these emotionally wrought and challenging processes.)

Tarot Spread #1: Quick and Easy Tarot Reading with the Moon Card

Step 1: Shuffle the deck while meditating on the Moon card.

Step 2: When you’re ready, turn over your deck so you can look through the cards.

Step 3: Find the Moon tarot card as well as the cards right before and after it.

Step 4: The tarot card before, or on top of, the Moon card reveals the shadow or unintegrated part of yourself.

Step 5: The tarot card after, or beneath, the Moon card reveals the public and accepted part of yourself.

Step 6: Think about how you can bring more openness and tenderness to the shadow side as a way of extending yourself compassion and self-acceptance.

Tarot Spread #2: Befriending the Shadow Tarot Spread

Here is a four-card tarot spread designed to help us start to befriend our shadow in the spirit of self-acceptance.