The Untamed Within: Remembering What Came Before the Mask

Over the past 8 months, I’ve found myself drawn into the world of ancient myths, esoteric teachings, and philosophical texts. Not just for study, but for the metaphors hidden within them. The more I read, the more I saw they weren't just stories about gods and monsters, but maps for navigating our own psyche. Lessons about what we fear, what we repress, and what we're capable of reclaiming.

Before there were rules, there was wildness. Before there was shame, there was sensation. What we now call darkness was once just... life, unfiltered.

What Is Primordial?

Primordial isn’t evil. It isn’t even chaotic. It’s original. It’s the unedited pulse of existence before anyone tried to clean it up. Think molten earth, animal instinct, emotional flood, the scream before the song.

We see it in nature. The earth cracks, floods, burns, blooms, softens. It never asks permission to feel. It cycles, erupts, recedes. The forest isn’t always peaceful. Sometimes it devours. But it’s never fake.

This is the mirror of our inner world. Our feelings don’t follow scripts. They aren’t organized on a neat timeline. One moment you’re grounded. The next, gutted. Then soft again. That’s not dysfunction, that’s aliveness.

Myths and Monsters

Throughout myth, we see the same story: hero slays monster. Deity defeats serpent. Warrior conquers the dark cave.

In Babylonian myth, Marduk slays Tiamat, the sea serpent of chaos, and uses her body to create the heavens and earth. In the Hebrew scriptures, Yahweh battles Leviathan—the twisting sea creature representing primordial chaos. In the Vedas, Indra kills Vritra, a great serpent withholding the waters, to restore cosmic balance. In Norse myth, Thor confronts the Midgard Serpent at Ragnarök. He kills the creature, but only takes nine steps before dying from its venom. A reminder that conquering what we fear often comes at a cost.

Across cultures, the serpent or dragon symbolizes a force too powerful, too wild, too untamable to be left alone. And so, myth after myth, it is conquered, controlled, cast down.

But were those monsters actually evil? Or were they the untamed parts of our own psyche? Our grief, our feminine power, our rage, our mystery?

Medusa wasn’t a villain. She was punished rage. The dragon isn’t just fire~it’s deep intuition, sexuality, shadow. The underworld wasn’t hell until someone needed a way to scare you into obedience.

Myths reflect the inner war we wage: to suppress, silence, control. But what if the work isn’t to slay the monster, but to understand it? To sit beside it and listen?

Toxic Positivity and the Fear of Feeling

We live in a culture of forced, false light. "Good vibes only" is the mantra of the emotionally avoidant. The deeper message? Don’t be inconvenient. Don’t be messy. Don’t show what hasn’t been photoshopped into submission.

Positivity without depth becomes a form of bypass. It's a silicone mask over grief, rage, insecurity. It numbs instead of nourishes.

Curiosity is the antidote. Ask your anger why it showed up. Let your sadness have space at the table. Feel your joy without clutching it. Emotional maturity is not about choosing light over dark, but making room for the whole spectrum. This has been my biggest lesson of my lifetime and it took me into my mid- life to really integrate.

On the "Intimidating" Archetype

There’s an archetype that gets cast onto those who don’t shrink themselves. The ones who walk with presence, who don't rush to explain, who don’t bend to be more palatable. They're called intense. Cold. Scary. Unapproachable.

But often, it’s projection. A fear of what we don’t understand.

I think of a woman on my block who’s often unhoused. To some, she might seem intimidating—open with her rage, unapologetically emotional, radiant in a way that doesn’t play by the rules. But when we see each other, we run toward one another smiling. We say how amazing the other is with deep eye contact. Not out of politeness, but recognition. She makes me feel seen, too. There’s no fear, just recognition. Two humans, seeing and being seen.

We’re trained to distrust what we can’t label. We’re told to avoid what doesn’t smile first. But what if we met the unfamiliar with curiosity instead of judgment? What if, instead of assigning blame to what feels powerful, we asked what it's protecting?

Reclaiming the Primordial

To return to the primordial isn’t about becoming primitive. It’s about remembering what was here before the facade. Reclaiming the inner wild that never needed to be tamed.

The goal isn't to erase the shadow. It's to walk with it. To know yourself as complex and alive. Raw, soft, disciplined, chaotic. This is wholeness.

The earth erupts, and then rests. We can learn from that rhythm. You don’t need to shame your inner waves—but you can reflect on them, understand them, and let them guide you inward. The real self is not a brand. It's not digestible. It moves in waves. It howls. It heals. It remembers.