I used to feel a tinge of regret when I would think about how many years I have spent exploring the antipodes of my mind, following every tangled thread as I danced ever closer to the core of my being. I wasn't living, I would admonish myself. What's a rich inner life when the outer life has always been so small in comparison?
Seeing people do things they can't control, can't explain, and can't accept that they themselves have done has stripped me of the regret. To be three decades on this earth and still not understand why you do the things you do is to walk through life blind, shocked when you run into things. I have looked my shadow in the eye without flinching. I have looked my shadow in the eye with love, even. But to ignore the darkness within, to refuse to see what lies beneath, is to banish the minotaur to the labyrinth. What will happen when you meet the minotaur again? He will devour you whole, crack your bones and suck out the sweet marrow. But to love and accept the minotaur, to integrate your shadow into how you "define" your "self," is to tame the beast. You could walk with the minotaur, ask things of him, without fear