I am not my shadow and my shadow is not me. Rather, my shadow is a version of me. But we are not the same.
Yes, we are closely associated, but we each have our own minds. We are intimate, but we are not one. My shadow represents me. He interprets my actions, but he does not always ‘get’ me.
I think my shadow admires me. Certainly he emulates, but there is a thin line between adulation and envy. He can also be moody and fickle. Changeable and prone to exaggeration, my shadow can be inaccurate, obscene and even ludicrous in his representations. At these moments, we do not always get on.
No doubt my shadow thinks me too rigid, and I certainly think him too flighty. Secretly, I think he envies my solidity. Though he tries to anticipate my every move, often I wrong-foot him. Dark and brooding, his resentment builds.
Who leads and who follows is a constant battle of wills between us. But we will never leave each other and we both know that. We are symbiotic. Bonded together. Closer even than family.
Moving to sunny Australia from overcast Scotland has only strengthened our bond. We rely on each other and hang out together, more than ever before.
We belong together, though we are not the same.
