Wild water reckoning: How to love in a world of lies

This is the lost art of authentic (creative) living

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This is how taking a break from your literal mind can lead to self-awareness, clarity, courage and healthier relationships with other people.

A few years ago, I was in Nicaragua, learning to surf.

In one early-morning lesson, when I was really tired, my instructor noticed that I was flagging and suggested I rest and watch him surf for a bit. He took my board and left me in the small break to observe his brilliance out in the main break.

CW: water, waves, drowning

So, I stood with my back to the shore, and my feet on the sand, happily diving through the soft, white foam and watching as my instructor showed off. What I didn't realise was that all this diving combined with the undertow was taking me gradually out into the deeper, scarier water.

Seemingly without any warning, I found myself in the midst of the main break and it was too deep for me to stand. I looked up just as an enormous wall of water towered above me and readied itself to crash down from about six feet above my head. The only thing I knew to do was what my mother had taught me as a little child: you have to swim into the waves to withstand their power. Over and over again, that water rose up in front of me and I hurled my body into it with all the energy I had. But these waves were bigger than the ones I was used to, and without being able to push off the seabed, I could only dive halfway through before they’d pull me up and then throw me back down into the churning, terrifying water.

Between each of these bombardments, there were just a few seconds when I could see the sky. And in those moments, I’d frantically try to touch a toe to the ground. But it was always just out of reach. This went on for what seemed like an age. With every wave, I grew weaker and more hopeless. I gasped for air and choked on salty water over and over again and I distinctly remember the feeling of giving up at one point. Exhausted, terrified and heartbroken, I thought This is it. This is the end. I can't make this stop.

I've been in some frightening situations in my life, but I have never once come close to accepting the end. Except that one time. Spoiler alert: I got out safely, and how that happened is something I'll never forget. I'll tell you about that in just a moment. But first, let's talk about water.

Water as the home of the shadow self

"Whoever looks into the mirror of the water will see first of all his own face. Whoever goes to himself risks a confrontation with himself. The mirror does not flatter, it faithfully shows whatever looks into it; namely, the face we never show to the world because we cover it with the persona, the mask of the actor. But the mirror lies behind the mask and shows the true face."

– Carl Jung, Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious

For Carl Jung, water symbolised the unconscious mind and the emotions, representing the depths and mysteries of the human psyche that lie beneath the surface of our conscious awareness.

Symbolically, deep water represents the realm of the shadow self – all the lost, rejected and repressed parts of the personality. It's where those parts can be glimpsed, too. Not directly, because it doesn't work that way, but in the water's rippled reflection.

In other words, we can meet our true selves – our whole selves – not by observing ourselves directly, but by snatching up the brief and fleeting shapes and outlines offered when we dare to approach the things in life that feel dark, deep and mysterious. Just like my experience in Nicaragua, this can be frightening and disorienting, but it's also the route to truly empowering growth and change. Thankfully, it doesn't have to feel like drowning. We can swim safely through the waters of the unconscious mind by engaging in processes, thoughts and conversations that allow for creativity and imagination.

Creative expression as shadow work

"Out of a playful movement of elements whose interrelations are not immediately apparent, patterns arise which an observant and critical intellect can only evaluate afterwards. The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves."

Carl Jung, CW 6 – Psychological Types

Any kind of creative expression – be it visual art, music, writing, sculpting, movement and dance, comedy, or anything else – can help us to bring hidden aspects of the psyche into the light of consciousness. You can think of it as a bit like fishing in the ocean, but without the killing part, because this process, known as "shadow work" in Jungian psychology, involves not just confronting but also integrating – which means accepting – the less acknowledged parts of the self.

The reason creativity can serve as such an effective channel for this work is that it allows the unconscious to express itself in a symbolic way – which is the only way it can – therefore giving us access to thoughts, feelings and perspectives that might not so easily emerge through rational contemplation alone.

For Jung, integration of shadow aspects was really the entire aim of psychoanalysis. He believed that exploring the depths of the unconscious was essential for achieving individuation: the process of disentangling ourselves from our past in order to become who we really are, moving towards a state of authentic wholeness.

The effect of shadow work on our relationships

In particular, we're likely to see changes in our relationships as a result of engaging in shadow work – both those we have with ourselves and others. This is because unintegrated shadow content functions like a barrier between us and the rest of the world.

Unless we learn who we really are and dare to show that with the world, we'll always find it hard to experience true connection and trust. Because if we don't express our true selves, then our true selves are not actually in any relationship we have. Rather, it's a false, warped, edited and incomplete version of who we are that's trying to connect with others.

Deep down, we know this, which can make it extremely difficult to feel loved or liked. Instead, we find ourselves waiting for our relationships to go up in smoke, and thinking things like "when they find out what I'm actually like, they'll leave" or "they just won't like the real me".

But there's more. No matter how well we think we're hiding our unpalatable bits, those around us also know that we're not all there. We convince ourselves that we’re great at obscuring our true thoughts and feelings, and it's true that we are good at hiding these things from ourselves, but we're not so good at hiding them from others.

People can sense phoniness like dogs picking up on a scent. They might not know the details, or even realise exactly why something seems off, but a part of them knows that they're not getting the full picture.

And so regardless of whether they've consciously acknowledged the block, they will automatically keep their distance – either in a literal sense, or just by not emotionally connecting or daring to be vulnerable with us.

As a result, we find ourselves in lonely relationships, always feeling like true connection, trust and stability are out of reach. Frantically, we try to touch a toe to the ground, but there's only emptiness where we hope to find something tangible.

To make matters worse, the other thing that happens when shadow content stays in the shadow is projection. If we don't allow the parts of ourselves that we don't like or can't accept for any other reason to be a part of our self-awareness, they don't disappear from our world. Instead, we throw these traits and fears out and onto those around us. Other people start to function like dark pools of water that reflect our true faces back at us – and when we don't accept our true face, we will not accept them either.

Ever noticed how really critical of people are often ones who seem to suffer the most from self-doubt? That's what's going on there.

How to use creativity for personal change

"Music listening can bring parts of the story to the forefront of the client’s mind and begin processing more deeply. Healing from trauma can certainly happen outside the story and outside of music, but for some clients exploring their story using music may be able to provide a unique and otherwise inaccessible type of healing."

– Taylorlyn N. Mehnert, 'THE ROLE OF MUSIC IN THE TRAUMA NARRATIVE AND “STORYTELLING”: PERSPECTIVES OF CLINICIANS’

Shadow work can change these things and much more. Of course, it can be achieved in therapy, or via practices like mindfulness. But if those things don't float your boat, you can also do it by engaging your creativity and imagination – by doodling mindfully, writing songs, painting pictures, composing poems, journaling or recording your dreams.

And the best bit is that it's not only while doing creative things that we can access important insights. Anything that evokes emotion can lead us to the shadow – a photograph or painting that stops us in our tracks, a song that brings a tear to the eye. If we get the feels, then we're in touch with the water. What matters is what we do next. So, do we just shrug it off and carry on, or do we pay attention?

Here are some questions to ask yourself while doing or just observing something creative and/or emotional. These are only starting points, and they won't cover everything, but I hope they'll help you to begin this process by awakening probably the most important thing of all when it comes to shadow work: curiosity.

General Questions:

1. What emotions am I feeling as I create?

   • Identify the specific emotions that are present during your creative process. Are they strong, subtle, or conflicting?

2. What thoughts or memories surfaced while I was creating?

   • Note any specific thoughts or memories that came up. Do they relate to current situations, past experiences, or future concerns?

3. What symbols, images, or themes appear in my work?

   • Look for recurring symbols, images, or themes. What might these represent in your life?

4. What does the overall tone or mood of my creation convey?

   • Consider the mood or tone of your work. Is it dark, light, chaotic, calm, vibrant, or muted? How does this mood reflect your internal state?

For Writing (Journaling, Poetry, Freewriting):

1. What words or phrases stand out to me?

   • Are there any words or phrases that resonate strongly? What do they mean to you?

2. Am I repeating any particular ideas or expressions?

   • Notice if certain ideas or expressions keep coming up. What significance do they hold?

3. Is there a narrative or story emerging?

   • If a story or narrative is forming, what is it telling you about your inner world or current life situation?

4. How do I feel about the characters or subjects in my writing?

   • Reflect on your emotional connection to the characters or subjects. Do they represent parts of yourself or others in your life?

For Visual Art (Drawing, Painting, Sculpting):

1. What colors, shapes, or textures did I use?

   • Consider the colors, shapes, and textures you chose. What emotions or ideas do they evoke?

2. What elements of the piece draw my attention the most?

   • Identify the focal points in your artwork. Why are these aspects particularly compelling to you?

3. Does the composition feel balanced or imbalanced?

   • Reflect on the overall balance of the piece. How might this reflect your internal balance or imbalance?

4. What does the space in the artwork represent?

   • Look at how you’ve used space. Is it filled, empty, expansive, or confined? What might this say about your feelings or situation?

For Music (Composing, Playing, Singing):

1. What emotions are conveyed through the melody or rhythm?

   • Analyze the emotions that the melody or rhythm communicates. Are they aligned with how you feel?

2. What dynamics (loud/soft, fast/slow) did I use?

   • Consider how the dynamics of the music reflect your internal state. Are you expressing intensity, gentleness, agitation, or calmness?

3. Are there any dissonant or harmonious elements?

   • Notice if the music includes dissonance or harmony. How might this relate to your internal conflicts or resolutions?

4. What is the overall message or feeling of the music?

   • Reflect on the overarching message or emotion of the piece. What does it reveal about your current psychological or emotional state?

For Movement (Dance, Body Expression):

1. What movements feel natural or forced?

   • Pay attention to which movements flow naturally and which feel forced or constrained. What might this indicate about your emotions or state of mind?

2. Am I drawn to certain types of movement (e.g., fluid, sharp, repetitive)?

   • Notice the types of movement you’re drawn to. What might these movements symbolize?

3. How does my body feel before, during, and after the movement?

   • Reflect on your bodily sensations throughout the process. What changes do you notice, and what might they signify?

4. What emotions arise as I move?

   • Identify the emotions that come up during the movement. Are they expressing something that words cannot?

Deeper Reflective Questions:

1. What aspects of my creation surprise or disturb me?

   • Explore any elements that surprise, disturb, or challenge you. What unconscious material might these be bringing to the surface?

2. What personal experiences or relationships might be influencing this work?

   • Consider how your personal history or current relationships might be influencing your expression. What insights does this offer?

3. What fears or desires might be embedded in this creation?

   • Look for underlying fears or desires that might be represented in your work. How do these relate to your life?

4. What does this creation say about my current state of mind?

   • Reflect on what your creation reveals about your current mental and emotional state. Are you expressing clarity, confusion, peace, turmoil, etc.?

5. How does this work connect to my Shadow (the parts of myself I usually hide or repress)?

   • Consider how the work might be reflecting aspects of your Shadow. What parts of yourself are being revealed?

Applying insights to real life:

1. What actions can I take based on the insights gained?

   • Reflect on how the insights from your creative expression can inform your decisions or actions in life.

2. How can I integrate these new understandings into my daily life?

   • Think about practical ways to integrate the new awareness or perspectives you’ve gained into your everyday behavior and choices.

3. How might these insights improve my relationships with others?

   • Consider how understanding your unconscious material might enhance your interactions and relationships with others.

4. What further exploration is needed?

   • Identify any areas that require further exploration or reflection. How might you continue this work in a safe and gradual way?

Screen grab these six pages, or at least the first, last and whichever feels relevant from the more specific lists in the middle, and save it on your phone so you can check in with these prompts wherever you can benefit from them.

But if you engage with this work, please bear in mind that you don't need to find big, important insights right away. In fact, it's probably best that you don't. Instead, keep a diary of your notes and let it grow over time. If something is important, it won't come up just once; it'll repeat.

And, trust me, you'll know when something clicks into place. We all know that sense of an idea being right, even though we very often ignore it. So look out for that resonance – the ring of truth in an idea – and when you notice it, go with it. Let it flow and just pay attention to what happens next. Because even if what you've landed on is difficult news, when you experience that sense of truth in it, you might just find that the water, all of a sudden, feels a little calmer.

When the waves become beautiful again

A surfer saved me that day in Nicaragua. He jumped from the wave he'd been riding, untied his board from his ankle, hauled me up onto it and then pointed me in the direction of the beach as the next wave approached. I shook my head, panicking at the very thought, but he was firm. “You have to go with the water,” he shouted, and pushed me forwards. The sheer force of the wave that came threw me meters up in the air and again I crashed down into the churning white water. But this time the sand was there to meet me. And when I scrambled to my feet, the water now stopping at my chest, almost immediately, the waves seemed beautiful once again.

I didn't speak to the surfer again after that moment. In fact, he seemed to disappear. But I'll never forget him, nor the lesson he taught me.

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Thank you for reading!

We’re Hazel (ex boxer, therapist and author) and Ellie (ex psychology science writer). We left our jobs to build an interactive narrative app for self-awareness and emotion regulation (Betwixt), which you can try on Android here and on iOS here.

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