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Dear Shadow, May I Have This Dance?
- Anita R. Elliott
- Jan 24
- 2 min read
January 24, 2026
i have not always understood you.
i have numbed you out, forgotten you, felt you hovering at my edges and other times felt completely swallowed by you.
i have been angry with you.
confused by you.
i have asked you to leave.
i have ignored you.
i have invited you for tea and still not truly listened.
and when i did listen, i rarely stayed long.
i was always focused on fixing, resolving, moving on.
as if presence alone was never enough.
i have heard the phrase “shadow work” whispered through books, posts, and spiritual spaces.
it is often framed as something to conquer.
purge.
transcend.
but lately, my thoughts keep circling something softer.
i think of myself as a child, lying awake in bed, playing with shadows on the wall.
how they stretched and shrank with the movement of my hands (bunny was my favorite).
how they felt mysterious, but never threatening.
just curious.
just alive.
so now i wonder, what would it mean to play with my shadow again?
just a brief glimpse of shadow and light moving together.
an invitation to watch, or simply feel, and move on.
what would it mean to open the floor for collaboration between my light and my dark, instead of asking one to dominate the other?
in this moment, i am grateful for both.
truly.
deeply.
because i could not know one without the other.
i am reminded of something i heard while walking through the van gogh museum in amsterdam.
his brushstrokes, restless and alive, spoke openly of passion, pain, longing, and madness.
he wrote often to his brother about the sky, especially the night sky.
about his devotion to her veils.
about how darkness gave light somewhere to play.
a dark space without expectation.
a space where even the ugly could become beautiful.
or at least bearable.
today, i turned toward my shadow with a new intention.
not to fix.
not to banish.
but to witness.
to appreciate.
to celebrate all of its dark, honest glory.
sincerely,
dancing with my shadow
© anita elliott (aka souldancer), 2026. excerpts and links may be used with clear credit and a link back to the original post.
🌒 shadow dance playlist 🌘
for the moments when you’re not trying to “fix” anything.
just breathing.
just listening.
just letting your shadow take your hand instead of your throat.
this playlist is for slow swaying in lamp light, kitchen-floor honesty and making space for both the dark and the sparkle
put it on while you wash dishes, stretch your hips, or sit by the window and let the day soften around you.
(bonus points if you do a tiny hand-shadow bunny once, just because.)
💌question for you:
if your shadow could speak kindly for one minute, what would it want you to hear today?
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