Mining the Gold Within
Realizing in ourselves that which we find valuable in others
I must have been five or six at a park full of kids, there with their dads and siblings as I was with mine. It was one of those local youth sports orgs. An open house, come see what we’re all about type deals. Softball, I think.
The fuzzy-free memory was that I was having none of it. Overwhelmed and self-conscious, I put on a pout, dug in my heels, and would not entertain my dad’s encouragement to just, try. To see if maybe, I’d like it.
Years passed before a sport seemed to reach out and grab me.
I joined a basketball team in eighth grade and kept on through high school. I was a practice player, sometimes getting seconds at the end of a game before the buzzer. I think the gesture was meant to make me feel good. But instead I felt like shit.
I resisted the reality of being good enough to be on the team—to help the great players get greater—but not enough to be on the court. And that may be when I first entered a toxic relationship with resentment.
I was forcibly pleasant with some teammates in the external world. Internally, I saw the same star players as enemies, at fault for my riding the pine.
Too dark to see my own shadow
It was twisted. You see, the girls on my team hustled. They were fierce with desire to win. They had the drive to go hard no matter how tired or sore. And they were confident. Even in defeat.
But this is not how I saw it.
I vilified them. They were lucky for having been born so tall. Selfish for playing entire games while teammates sat. Conceited and smug and expectant of wins.
Had I been more self aware, I would’ve noticed that that hustle, that desire, that drive—those were parts of me, too. It’s why I made the team. It’s why I was invited back to play every year. It’s why I kept showing up.
But I didn’t have the confidence to own those parts. Not yet.
In Jungian psychology, our shadow self represents portions of our personality that we reject and repress. We find them distasteful, often for reasons unknown to us.
So what do we do with our rejected parts?
We cover them up. Cast them to the shadow realm. Disown them.
But we don’t want to outright disown ourselves. That’d be a futile game. And we’re wired to survive. So we fixate on the outcasted parts that appear in others. Shame others for having what we unconsciously desire to be or to express or to unapologetically own.
Makes sense. It’s easier than getting brave, turning on the light, and looking inside our own darkness.
This approach is called shadow work. This bringing the rejected parts of us into awareness and then figuring out how best to integrate them. It’s tough because sometimes what we do hide away doesn’t look too pretty on the surface.
But it’s worth it. A powerful approach to at least better understand ourselves, and at most become more whole.
> The ritual: Is there a quality in someone that you find off-putting or distasteful? How about one that evokes awe, or jealousy, or a sense of, “I could never do that”? With a candle of self compassion, try laying the disdain or the imposter syndrome to rest, and shine the light on an area where you, too, might have that quality deep inside. Don’t see it? Look deeper, and ask how might you benefit from giving that part of yourself a chance to take up space and express.
Taking back what’s rightfully ours
My therapist turned me on to Robert A. Johnson’s extensive and accessible work like She: Understanding Feminine Psychology, He: Understanding Masculine Psychology, Ecstasy: Understanding the Psychology of Joy, and Inner Gold: Understanding Psychological Projection.
I was going on a short beach holiday in January 2025 with only a carry-on and my favorite worn daypack with a busted zipper. Space was tight. One book was my max and Inner Gold had a setting sun over water on the cover. It was also only about a quarter-inch thin. Naturally, that’s the one I brought. The first of the Johnson’s titles that I’d read.
Gold. It’s sparkly, shiny, valuable. It’s used to adorn or to exchange. If we have it, we feel pretty, even powerful.
In The Book of Symbols, an entry on excrement reads:
“The Aztec’s word for disgrace literally meant to be smeared in excrement, yet their words for ‘gold’ meant ‘divine excrement’ or ‘the sun’s excrement.’ With similar paradox, alchemy claimed, and psychology supports, that the gold of transformation ‘is found in filth,’ in those very aspects of one’s substance the ego tends to dismiss as inferior.”
What I came to understand from Johnson’s concept is that we all have gold within us. Sometimes it’s easy to see the shimmer. Sometimes the shimmer is hiding under loads of shit, waiting to be discovered, buffered, and rightfully valued.
There’s another thing about gold. It’s heavy.
Johnson wrote:
“The exchange of gold is a mysterious process. It is our gold, but it’s too heavy for us, so we need someone else to carry it for a time. That person becomes synonymous with meaning. We follow him with an eagle eye wherever he goes. His smile can raise us to heavenly heights, his frown will hurl us to hellish depths, so great is the power of meaning.
“We project our gold onto someone, and suddenly we’re consumed with that person.
“When we observe the things we attribute to the other person, we see our own depth and meaning. Our gold goes first from us to them. Eventually it will come back to us.”
It will come back to us. When we’re strong enough to hold it.
Cross-step like a goddess
The trip on which I read Inner Gold was centered around surfing, where an intimate group of mostly woman came together to share a love of the ocean, get better riding waves, and explore a new-to-us part of the world.
Paired with two of the best long boarders of the group by pure chance—not ability—we set intentions for the week. An energetic mom of young twins desired to get barreled. I desired to cross-step like a goddess. We laughed. They felt too fantastical to achieve in six days. But below the half-jokes were glimmers of hope.
The energy on the water was not at all competitive. It was supportive, growing even more so as we watched each other make incremental adjustments and improvements from days prior.
The mom was complimentary of my surfing. Struck by how I moved on the board after just shy of two years in. I, on the other hand, was mesmerized by each one of her waves. Watching her, I thought, that’s what cross-stepping like a goddess looks like.
I started to listen more closely to the admiring words she used for me. The tone, the energy, the body movement they were delivered with. Occasionally followed by subtle slights aimed at the surfer she was back when she was learning, and then some comparisons to her current style.
At some point, I saw Johnson’s pages projected onto our reality. She was giving me her gold. I was giving her mine.
When the next opportunity came and we had some space, I shared with her what I was reading and seeing. I don’t remember the intricacies of our conversation. But I won’t forget floating on the water and seeing her disappear under a barrel on the last day. I won’t forget the joy and excitement on her face that boat ride back to shore as the sun shimmered gold over her entire being.
And I soaked in the feeling of having cross stepped more in that week than in my entire life. It may not have looked pretty, but I felt like a goddess. And that feeling, I could use as fuel to keep, getting, stronger.
Reflecting on the reframe
I often wonder if learning about this concept of Inner Gold would’ve changed my basketball and all of the many experiences in every area of life that followed.
Would it have resonated? Would I have been ready to believe it? Embody it? I was losing in so many ways, and I had no idea.
Johnson explained:
“Generally we don’t exchange gold well, and much of our depression and loneliness revolves around misunderstanding this exchange. We run around in a state of guilt. I’m a failure. This isn’t working. What are they going to think about me? But when you understand the transmission of gold, you can honor it and not feel guilty. You know something indirect is taking place. You can sense it, but you can’t possess it yet. Just try to remember that it’s your gold that is being held by whomever or whatever. Knowing this gives you a certain dignity, which we all desperately need.”
Having this perspective opens up this portal where, if I choose, allows me to revisit any woman I’ve ever compared myself to—any man I’ve ever valued more than myself—and appreciate them for holding my gold during that time.
But now. Now I’m ready to carry the weight.
> The ritual: The earlier invitation was intellectually based. Time to feel it. Notice when and where your Inner Gold shows up in your life—or when it doesn’t, but would be helpful if it did. In your dreams, in your relationships, in the dialogue in your head. Journal about it, track it, invite it in.
Music Box
Through a few years’ old eyes Tiny hands of mine Part above from below Peering through a sliver of space To see tiny tip toes Wrapped in pink and lace Opening a little wider Getting a little brighter Setting off a sparkly melody If twinkly stars made shimmery sound This would be their tune Pinging strings of galaxies Fully exposed Fully enraptured Her porcelain pose in releve Perfectly aligned axis Soft fingertips over crown Inviting in divinity I may be young But I know She is whom I wish to be Certain Composed And carefree Suddenly taken by fear of a break where she’ll freeze And I’ll loose what I have Of the joy that she brings I shut the box tight to tuck her safely inside Returned to darkness For nearly half a lifetime Until the earth quakes She descends from dusty shelves And from the depths inside, I re-awake Hinges unhinged I catch the little girl’s gaze And make sure she knows That I am her and she is me Tutu wearing Ballerina twirling Soulfully swirling To our own song We’ll dance for forever Amongst falling stars Long after the lid closes
May you dust off the dull and let your gold sparkle all about you, Everyday Alchemist. Until next time, I’d love to hear what you’ve lately been admiring in another. Something you recognize as unrealized potential within yourself.
My favorite thus far Amy🙏🏼🥲✨
Amy, I appreciate your willingness to share your authenticity and vulnerability - and that pause(!) - powerful 🤙🏼 - thank you.