Welcome to the Birth of Clarity newsletter on Substack.
Many of us like to think we are good people. Maybe not perfect, but at least decent.
We tell ourselves we try, we mean well, we do our best. Yet somewhere in that quiet space between thought and action - between who we believe we are and who we actually show up as - something darker stirs. A whisper. A flicker. A reminder that light and darkness do not exist separately, but side by side, constantly trading places.
The fact is, many of us live split between the two.
I recently rewatched Season One of True Detective and the clip below, among others, inspired today’s post.
Many of us wake up wanting to be patient, kind, understanding. Then work, stress or a minor annoyance breaks the facade. Our smile fades, irritation bubbles to the surface, and before we know it, our words cut sharper than intended. Later, guilt sets in. We apologise, make promises, and convince ourselves we’ll do better next time.
But the next time always comes.
You can read more about this type of cycle here 👇
The truth is, many of us don’t outgrow our darkness; we just learn to hide it better. We refine our presentation, but unfortunately not our nature. We build an external version of ourselves that looks stable, moral and balanced, whilst we torture ourselves privately trying to control the chaos.
We adopt masks to function, protect, belong. I know I did when I was drinking. The longer I wore that mask, the more it began to define me. It became harder for me to tell which face was real.
Mirrors became my enemy.
Moral clichés
We divide life into binaries. Light and dark, good and evil, truth and lies. But that simplifies the human condition because we can argue the same heart that loves can also envy. The same hands that help can also harm.
We can also argue that our mistake is believing that one cancels the other out. That goodness erases the darkness within us. When really, for many, they just coexist. Humans can be kind and cruel, compassionate and selfish, loyal and deceitful… often all within the same day!
It’s hard for me to say “you need to eliminate the darkness” without confronting the fact that both have existed/ and to some extent still do exist within me simultaneously.
The more I denied the darkness, the stronger it grew. The more I clung to the light, the more fragile it became. Because light that refuses to acknowledge its own shadow is not light at all… It’s illusion.
In Blessed Are The Dead, former WWE wrestler, Killer Kross narrates the descent into self. “There is so much evil in this world,” he begins, and the words linger like a confession. Kross is always somewhat haunting and poetic in his delivery, but this video suggests that it’s the quiet, ordered madness within us that casts the illusion that light can exist without shadow.
“Order within darkness is an illusion,” he says. “That’s a trap.” And it is. Because every time we try to contain our darker impulses, to package them neatly under good intentions, they only grow stronger in the corners of the cage.
We want to believe we’ve tamed the chaos inside us. But more often than not, we’ve only taught it how to smile.
“You used to be a good man”
This was the cutting observation delivered to Marty by his wife in True Detective.
Yet, like Marty, many of us imagine we are “good”. We imagine our “real” self is someone who behaves, who chooses correctly, who resists temptation. But maybe the real self is the one who struggles between both, again, like Marty. The one caught in the pull of two directions, trying to make sense of them.
A good cop, a family man, lost to temptation and lust, battling demons in real life and within.
To live consciously is to live divided. To pretend otherwise is to live asleep.
For some of us, there is a strange comfort in acknowledging our inner split. Or maybe not comfort exactly, more like curiosity. We are often curious which one will prevail.
Every day we wake up and negotiate the same opposing forces. The ego wants power, validation, control. The soul wants humility, connection, peace. Both believe they are right. Both can justify their desires with reason.
It’s easy to recognise darkness when it’s destructive. It’s harder when it disguises itself as virtue.
The need to be seen as good, the hunger to be admired, the self-righteousness that masquerades as integrity are all shadows cast by our own light.
The fight isn’t only against the ugly parts of ourselves, it’s against the seductive parts, too. The ones that feel noble but still come from ego.
You adjust at work, with friends, with family. You present fragments. Because the reality often is that the version of you that faces the world doesn’t always match the one that lives in your head. You show light where it’s expected and conceal darkness where it’s not.
Exhaustion and self-realisation
Eventually, this split becomes exhausting.
You start to wonder: who am I when no one’s watching? The version that preaches patience but loses his temper? The one who seeks meaning but scrolls endlessly? The one who loves deeply but withdraws when it matters most?
Yet, acknowledging the dual nature of your being doesn’t always lighten the load. In fact, it normally becomes heavier to carry.
You so desperately want to lean into the light, but you find comfort in the chaos. You know your light doesn’t guarantee virtue and your darkness doesn’t guarantee corruption, so any fight becomes exhausting and repetitive.
You may act from kindness and still cause harm.
You may act from fear and still create good.
Motives mix. Outcomes blur. Intentions backfire.
It’s humbling. It’s maddening. But it’s also what makes moral life real.
You may picture the phoenix rising from the ashes. Your redemption arc. You emerging from darkness and finally standing in the light. However, some may argue that perhaps redemption is not a place, but a process. A constant return.
You fall, you notice, you learn, you fall again.
You slip into anger, pride, envy… then, sometimes, you catch yourself. Not always in time, but often enough to remember you’re still trying.
That’s the work.
Not perfection. Not purity. Just persistence.
The light needs darkness to define itself. The darkness needs light to reveal what it hides. Neither can exist without the other. And so we live in the space between them.
A space where you’re never fully whole, never fully broken, but always in motion.
Maybe that’s the quiet truth:
The battle between good and evil doesn’t happen out in the “real” world. It’s a battle within. Something I’ve said many times.
The battlefield is in the invisible moments when you decide whether to speak or stay silent, help or turn away tell the truth or twist it. Where every decision tips the scale, even slightly. And the scales never stop moving.
Often the point is not to win the battle, but to stay aware you’re in a war.
To keep showing up for the fight, even when you’re tired of yourself. To accept that there is no final victory, only moments of clarity amid the chaos.
Because maybe the light isn’t what saves us.
Maybe the lights shines to help us see how deep the darkness goes.
It can be painful, I know that’s the case for me, but it could be the closest thing to grace we’ll ever know.
What do you think?
Thank you for reading: “When Light Hides Shadows.”
Before you go, here are some useful articles related to today’s post:
Please check out the last post: “‘Because I Had a Problem!’”
And 💜 and Restack this post on the Substack app.
Take care,
Roscoe | Birth of Clarity
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