When Shadow Becomes a Teacher

There are seasons when even the most soulful path feels dim.
When the words that once flowed now stumble.
When everything you thought you’d built — the clarity, the confidence, the creative rhythm — seems to have slipped just beyond reach.

I’ve been in that place lately.
Not the beautiful kind of Shadow I write about — the one that holds quiet reflection and sacred pause — but the heavier kind. The kind that feels like fog settling in your chest. The kind that whispers you’ve lost your way even when, deep down, you know the path is simply turning inward.