Embracing the skeletons of the past to find peace, healing, and spiritual clarity
Dear Friend,
“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
~ Rumi
Life has a way of catching us off guard, doesn’t it? Just when we think we’ve made peace with the past, another shadow appears—a forgotten memory, an old regret, or a fear we thought we had conquered. It comes rattling back into our lives, like a skeleton from a hidden closet. These moments can feel overwhelming, even unsettling, but they hold within them a sacred invitation: not to run from the past, but to face it with courage and curiosity.
Rick Warren once said, “We are products of our past, but we don’t have to be prisoners of it.” These words remind us that while our past shapes us, it doesn’t have to confine us. Yet, how often do we find ourselves trapped by its weight, desperately trying to silence the echoes instead of listening to what they have to teach us?
I’ve come to believe that the skeletons in our closets are not here to torment us but to teach us. They are messengers carrying the gifts of transformation. Rather than slamming the door shut, we’re invited to open it wider and step into the shadows. It’s not an easy task, but it’s a journey deeply rooted in the sacred wisdom of spiritual traditions.
In Celtic mythology, transformation often begins with a courageous encounter. Consider the story of Cúchulainn and his training with Scáthach, the shadowy warrior woman. She forces him to confront his deepest fears and vulnerabilities, and through that confrontation, he grows into the hero he was meant to be. The same is true for us—when we step into the shadows of our past, we often find the seeds of growth buried there.
In Hindu philosophy, the cosmic dance of Shiva Nataraja reminds us that destruction and creation are intertwined. Shiva’s tandava, the dance of destruction, clears away what no longer serves us, making space for renewal and growth. Similarly, our past—the regrets, the wounds, the fears—becomes the material from which we create something new.
In Christianity, we see this in Christ’s time in the wilderness. For forty days, He confronts temptation, wrestling with doubt and shadow. This confrontation strengthens His resolve and prepares Him for the path ahead. Even the cross, a symbol of immense suffering, becomes through Christ’s sacrifice a beacon of redemption and hope.
These stories teach us that the skeletons in our closets are not obstacles but opportunities for transformation.
Transformation begins with curiosity. In her book Women Who Run with the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estés writes, “Asking the proper question is the central action of transformation. The properly shaped question always emanates from an essential curiosity about what stands behind.”
So, what questions could we ask of the skeletons in our closets?
What lessons are hidden within these bones?
What truths have I been avoiding?
If I made a flute from these bones, what song would it play?
Are these skeletons as frightening as I imagine, or do they simply want to be understood?
These questions act as keys, unlocking doors that have remained closed for too long. They invite us to see our past not as a burden but as a teacher.
In Celtic lore, the cauldron of Cerridwen symbolizes transformation. It brews wisdom and inspiration for those willing to stir its depths. Similarly, our shadows—the skeletons, the pain, the regrets—are not meant to be ignored. They are meant to be stirred, understood, and transformed into something greater.
In Hinduism, this process reflects the practice of tapas, the inner fire that burns away impurities and reveals the soul’s essence. In Christianity, it mirrors grace—the divine ability to transform our failures into stepping stones toward redemption. Just as Christ’s wounds became symbols of His love and sacrifice, so too can our wounds become sources of strength and compassion.
And so, here I am, standing at the door to my own closet once again. This time, I’m not here to lock it away or silence the rattling. I’m here to listen. To ask questions. To learn. I’m here to dance with the skeletons, to honor their place in my story, and to allow them to guide me toward healing and growth.
What about you? Are you ready to open the door and step into the shadows of your own past? To face the skeletons not with fear, but with curiosity?
Our past is a teacher. It doesn’t ask us to be perfect, only present. It invites us to listen, to grow, and to transform. Within the rattling bones lie the seeds of wisdom and light, waiting to be uncovered.
May you find the courage to step into your shadows, the strength to ask the right questions, and the grace to emerge renewed. You are stronger than you think, and your light is brighter than you imagine.
Walk boldly, with wisdom and peace.
Warm regards,
Casey