Life is a circus

The curvy trail of life - meeting shadow, self, and the space in between

We often think of growth as a straight path—forward-moving, linear, tidy. But more often, it feels like a loop. A return. A curve back toward parts of ourselves we’d hoped we’d left behind. In talking with a friend I realized it’s not as much a loop but a spiral that grows upwards.

Lately, after publishing my first children’s book - Ray’s Rainbow Adventure, I’ve been thinking about shadows. Not just the ones cast by light, but the kind that follow us from within—quietly shaping how we respond, how we protect ourselves, how we react when we feel unseen or misunderstood.

A sequel to the children’s story about a curious beam of light named Ray, who meets her own shadow. At first, Ray tries to outrun it. But eventually, through an eclipse and a moment of stillness, she learns that shadow isn’t a threat. It’s part of the story light tells.

Writing for children is often like sneaking a note to your adult self. In the middle of working on that story, this poem arrived:

It’s a curvy trail
Where you meet yourself
Every step of the way
One step or one thousand
Steps later
Until you pause
Acknowledge and accept
The presence of yourself
The calm within

Shadow keeps following you
Spooks you, scares you
Excites you, destabilizes
Your natural state
And you do things
That you later regret

Prisoner of emotional reactivity
You try to push through
Calling yourself names
Punishing, avoiding
Ignoring, burying

Nothing seems to work
You don’t recognize who you’ve become
Do you enjoy the attention you draw
And the thrill of this chase?

They say misery loves company
So I ask, are you faking
Misery for company?
Did you verify, it was wise company?
Or did you seek shelter under the first company you found?

And was it the shadow of a snake
Who’ll feast on you when it’s hungry?

And you’ll run, meeting yourself
Out of breath, down the curvy trail.

In this poem I have written —not just about our emotions, but about the strategies we develop to manage them. We ignore, bury, perform, lash out, shrink, chase approval. And beneath it all is that shadow, not trying to harm us, but trying to show us something.

The line I keep returning to is this:

“Until you pause…”

Because that pause is where everything shifts.

It reminds me of Viktor Frankl’s line:

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

We don’t become ourselves by pushing past the shadow.
We become ourselves by noticing it, asking it questions, learning what it's been trying to say.

So maybe the path isn’t broken. Maybe the curve isn’t a mistake.
Maybe, just maybe, we meet ourselves again and again—until we finally slow down enough to listen.

I’d love to hear if this speaks to something in your own story. When was the last time you met your shadow—and did you recognize yourself?