“Whatever you run from becomes your shadow.”* Thwack. Biff. Have at you! Pretty much the impact of that simple statement.

The other night my eruption of laughter caused my bronchitis challenged lungs to explode into a major coughing episode. My little dog was hopping up on the couch to beg for a bite of whatever it was I was eating. Mid jump she farted. Then she yelped. I’m sure in dog language it would be the equivalent of a “what the…..!!!”  She hit the couch with her front legs. Immediately jumped down like she had been electrocuted and proceeded to turn in circles as she stared at her butt. I opted to not call 911 due to my inability to breathe. The dispatcher probably wouldn’t have thought it was serious I was laughing so hard. I tried to offer comfort to my little dog but I think my laugh cough was not terribly sincere.

A funny image to describe such powerful words. “Whatever you run from becomes your shadow.” From the image of my little dog, I pondered my own running with the shadows. With the same awkwardness and turning of the head, as we may do when we see the homeless or scenes that make us uncomfortable, we turn our gaze from ourselves. Add another layer to the masks. Buy this. Want this. If I had this or that. Medicate with this or that. Whenever we dare to fart a bit of our true self we yelp “what the….!!” and work harder at distraction. Running in circles with our shadows.

It is my ritual and grace, when I’m walking in nature, to touch my heart and whisper to all I around me, “I see you.” To give acknowledgement. To give honor. To recognize we are one. The whisper tonight, “With the same compassion of the doe’s eyes looking at you, stop running. Look. See. Compassion for the world begins with eyes turned inward.” And so little hobbit, with hands to my heart, “I see you. My eyes will not turn away.”

*Christina Feldman, “Compassion: Listening to the cries of the world”