Chapter 1: New Moon- The Doorway of Shadow
A gentle step deeper into shadow work, this lesson invites you to transform fear and self-judgement into understanding and tenderness. Learn how to relate to your shadow as a younger, protective part of yourself rather than an enemy to defeat.
In this lesson, you will begin practicing compassion as a healing bridge — softening old patterns of rejection and harshness, and opening the door to an ongoing, loving relationship with all of who you are.
Through simple reflection, guided visualization, and journal prompts, you will lay the foundation for lasting integration and self-acceptance.
Lesson 2: Meeting Your Shadow with Compassion
Explore why harshness repeats old wounds, while compassion heals them.
Learn to see the shadow as a childlike part of you, longing for safety, love, and acceptance.
Practice a guided education: The Gentle Witness — offering loving words to your shadow-self.
Journal prompts:
What parts of you might be longing for gentleness instead of criticism?
If you saw this part of you as a child, what would you say to them?
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A STORY FOR THE INNER CHILD
In a quiet corner of her room stood a mirror, left behind by someone she had once loved. But She kept it not because of him — no , she cherished it for it's own beauty: floral, gold, a symbol of alchemy, reminding her of what she could be even when she felt left behind.
Then, one ordinary day, it broke.
She hadn’t meant to break it. She tripped over a shoe she left on the floor, while carrying her plant back to its place in front of the mirror. The plant broke her fall into the mirror but the mirror shattered, scattering her reflection across the floor.
In that moment, a deep ache arose inside her:
“Just my luck”, something within her said. Just the day before, she had
felt hope—a bright light at the end of a long tunnel. An unexpected
blessing had arrived, money flowing in, a promise that maybe,
finally, things were turning around.
And then the mirror crashed, as if mocking her as it said, “no”.
“Of course this would happen.” the voice said again.
She tried replacing the negative voice with positive thoughts, as she
understood the power of thoughts.
She transformed this negative experience in life lessons that will help
her in the future:
Clean up after yourself to remove obstacles.
De-clutter so that you can make room for blessings in the future.
Try a new way of doing things rather than old familiar patterns.
But under the sheets of a positive outlook stirred something deeper—something that could no longer stay hidden.
In the broken shards, she saw her—a child, a younger self, wide-eyed and trembling.
The part of her who once anchored her entire sense of worth in being good.
That child was crying, inconsolable: “What’s going to happen to me now that I’m no good anymore? I’m broken! Who will love me now? Who will hold me now that I’m in pieces?”
The woman knelt, breathing gently, her heart splitting open to see this small girl, abandoned within herself for so long.
“Do you think you won’t be loved because you aren’t of use anymore?” She asked the child.
The child looked up, lip poke out and eyes full of tears, nodded, and began to cry again.
“What if you were loved even if you weren’t used?”
The child furrowed her brow, confused.
“What is love, little one?” she asked softly.
Through tiny, shaking sobs, the girl’s answered,
“Love is choosing me. Love is staying with me.
Love is seeing me.”
She began to sob once again,
“But no one will ever see how good I was!
No one will see how hard I tried!
They’ll throw me away, like the broken shards!”
Tears blurred the woman’s own eyes.
She reached out, gathering the girl close to her heart,
and whispered,
“No, my sweet one, you are not trash.
You are worthy of love.
You don’t have to perfect or even good to be loved.
Love is given.
Relationships are built, but love itself is given.”
A hush settled over them both. The girl’s breathing slowed, her small shoulders relaxing as the woman held her.
It was in that moment that the woman caught a glimpse in the fragmented pieces of the beautiful, alchemical mirror—holding herself.
She realized she wouldn’t need another seven years to earn, to prove, to rediscover her worth. She can begin her journey towards
that light at the end of the tunnel hand-in-hand with her won inner child, with the knowing of the true whole worth.
Together—steady, imperfect, and radiant she was—at last, her own anchor.
Closing Reflection
Maybe, reading this, you see yourself.
Maybe you, too, have broken something precious—a relationship, a dream, a piece of your identity—and felt a crushing fear that you would never be worthy again.
Maybe you have a small, trembling child within you, who still believes they must be good to be loved, who think every mistake makes them unlovable, unworthy, disposable.
The story shows:
1. The shadow is not your enemy.
2. The shadow is not poison.
3. The shadow is a younger part of you—confused, scared, desperate to be loved.
When we turn away from the shadow, it anchors itself in shame.
When we scold it, it clings to old survival rules. This is what the world has already done.
When we refuse to look at it, it finds ways to keep breaking our hearts heard in the voices of those that taught us to be small, to
hush, to muffle our truth.
But when we kneel, breathe, and offer compassion with:
“I see you.”
“You are worthy.”
“You are loved in all of the messiness.”
—the shadow softens, and returns to us.
It becomes part of our wholeness.
It comes home, reuniting with our light reflecting now as gold.
If you take nothing else from this story, remember this:
The parts of you that fear they are too broken to be loved—those are the parts most deserving of your gentleness.
In loving your shadow, you become you own anchor.
And that, precious one, is the beginning of true healing.
Compassion as the Bridge
When we approach out shadow, we often fear it will overwhelm us. That fear can make us harsh, critical, or quick to judge. But harshness repeats the very would the shadow carries—the wound of rejection. Compassion, on the other hand, becomes the bridge to bring these lost, frightened parts of us back home.
One of the most powerful ways to build this bridge is through journaling. Journaling does not have to be writing alone. You can journal through voice recordings, blogs, sketches, or even gentle movement practices. You don’t have to share these with anyone either.
However, there is something uniquely magical about writing: it requires intention. Writing slows your mind, invites focus, and filters through the noise. It can help you see clearly what a spoken rant might scatter.
Still, if you wish, you can absolutely combine voice notes, video reflections and writing. There is no wrong way—only a loving invitation to witness yourself with curiosity.
Whenever you journal—in any form—remember to approach the shadow with an open, curious heart, rather than judgement.
Curiosity heals because it allows you to ask questions, to wonder, to explore.
Judgement, however, stops growth and seal the shadow away once more.
Approach with Judgement
“Why am I still so messed up?”
“I shouldn’t feel this way anymore.”
“Why can’t I get over this?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
Approach with Curiosity
“What are you feeling right now, little one?”
“How did this part of me learn to protect me?”
“What might this feeling be trying to tell me about what I need?”
“What would help you feel safe to come closer?”
Journal Prompt: Introduce Yourself to Your Shadow
“If I could see my shadow as a child, what would they look like?
What would they need most from me right now?”
“What is one way this part of me has tried to keep me safe, even if its way is outdated?”
Observation Question
“How did it feel to offer compassion to this part of you, instead of judgement?
Was it easy, difficult, or surprising?
What did you notice within yourself?”
Sacred Reminder
When you catch yourself in judgement, pause, take a breath, and sift to a curious question instead.
Curiosity opens the door judgement slams it shut.
You are seen.
You are heard.
You belong.
You are loved.
Let your light shine, brilliant star.
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