Self-Abandonment, Shadow Work, and the Way of Oneness
By Kelly Branan
There is a question I have been carrying around lately.
What parts of yourself have you abandoned?
Not lost.
Not changed.
Not outgrown.
Abandoned.
What parts of yourself did you decide, somewhere along the way, were unacceptable?
Maybe you learned that anger wasn’t okay.
Maybe you learned that needing other people was weakness.
Maybe you learned that being vulnerable wasn’t safe.
Maybe you discovered that certain dreams were impractical, certain emotions were embarrassing, certain desires were selfish, or certain parts of your personality made other people uncomfortable.
So you adapted.
We all do this.
We learn what gets approval.
We learn what gets punished.
We learn what makes people love us.
We learn what makes people uncomfortable.
And little by little, we become very good at acting like the person we think we need to be.
The Masks We Wear
Rev. Gyomay Kubose wrote:
“Modern man has too many masks to wear. We must unmask and be ourselves, sincerely, earnestly and live truly as we are.” [1]
I love that phrase:
We must unmask.
Because we all have masks.
The successful one.
The responsible one.
The funny one.
The strong one.
The person who always has it together.
And these masks aren’t necessarily bad.
Sometimes they help us survive.
Sometimes they help us function.
Sometimes we genuinely need them.
The problem isn’t that we wear masks.
The problem is when we forget that we’re wearing one.
Or when we begin to believe that the mask is who we are.
And sometimes the parts of ourselves that don’t fit behind the mask get pushed away.
That’s where the idea of the shadow can be useful.
The Shadow
Carl Jung used the word “shadow” to describe aspects of ourselves that we have pushed outside our conscious identity. [2]
The shadow isn’t necessarily evil.
It’s simply what we don’t want to see.
Maybe I’m a “nice person,” so I don’t want to admit how angry I am.
Maybe I’m a “strong person,” so I don’t want anyone to see how frightened I am.
Maybe I’m a “spiritual person,” so I don’t want to acknowledge how jealous, petty, judgmental, or selfish I can sometimes be.
Maybe I’m the person everyone depends on, so I don’t allow myself to admit that I desperately want someone to take care of me.
So those parts get pushed into the shadows.
But the shadow doesn’t disappear because we refuse to look at it.
It waits.
And sometimes it finds another way out.
Through resentment.
Through jealousy.
Through defensiveness.
Through judgment.
Through the disproportionate reaction to something that, on the surface, shouldn’t have bothered us that much.
And we wonder:
“Why did I react like that?”
Maybe because something inside us is demanding to be seen.
Self-Abandonment
I think this is where the idea of self-abandonment becomes useful.
Self-abandonment isn’t necessarily some dramatic act.
Often it is incredibly ordinary.
It’s saying yes when everything inside you wants to say no.
It’s ignoring your own grief because somebody else needs you to be strong.
It’s deciding that your needs are less important than everyone else’s.
It’s silencing your creativity because it doesn’t seem practical.
It’s staying in a role long after it has stopped being useful.
It’s deciding that some emotion makes you a bad person.
It’s constantly comparing yourself to the person you think you should be.
And eventually you can become very successful at living a life that looks right from the outside…
while feeling increasingly disconnected from the person living it.
You can become so good at being what everyone expects…
that you forget what it feels like to simply be.
The Buddhist Shadow
There is a fascinating connection here with Buddhism.
Because Buddhism has its own language for the parts of ourselves we’d rather not acknowledge.
In Shin Buddhism, Shinran often speaks about bonnō, our blind passions, our attachments, desires, fears, delusions, and compulsions. [3]
In one letter, Shinran describes human beings as:
“completely possessed of ignorance” and with minds “wholly covered over by blind passions.” [3]
That’s not exactly the message our culture gives us.
Our culture says:
Fix yourself.
Become healthier.
Become more successful.
Become more confident.
Become more productive.
Become a better version of yourself.
And there is nothing inherently wrong with growth.
But there is a question underneath all of this:
At what point does self-improvement become another way of telling ourselves that we aren’t acceptable as we are?
Because we can even turn Buddhism into this.
“A Buddhist shouldn’t be angry.”
“A compassionate person wouldn’t feel jealous.”
“I’ve been practicing for years. Why am I still attached?”
“I should be more patient.”
“I should be more mindful.”
“I should be further along.”
And suddenly we’ve taken the very parts of ourselves that need compassion…
and rejected them again.
Only now we’re doing it in the name of spiritual practice.
We have simply found a more sophisticated way to say:
“You are not acceptable as you are.”
Being Yourself
This is why Rev. Gyomay Kubose’s teaching about being yourself is so interesting.
In his essay “Be Yourself,” Kubose writes:
“By being yourself you truly actualize what you are. You have to look into yourself and be yourself.” [4]
At first, this sounds almost like the opposite of Buddhism.
Because Buddhism teaches anattā, no fixed or permanent self. [5]
So what does it mean to “be yourself”?
Kubose anticipates that question.
He says that this “I” is not simply the ego self. He describes it as something that goes beyond the ordinary dualism of “ego self” and “true self.” He connects becoming oneself with realizing the oneness of all things. [4]
That distinction matters.
Because “being yourself” doesn’t mean:
Whatever I feel must be true.
It doesn’t mean:
I should always follow my impulses.
It doesn’t mean:
My authentic self is more important than everyone else.
Instead, it can mean something much more subtle:
Can I stop pretending that I am someone I am not?
Can I become intimate with the life that is actually happening?
Can I stop abandoning parts of myself simply because they don’t fit the identity I have constructed?
The Ideal Self
Because we all have an ideal self.
The person we think we’re supposed to be.
And when we compare ourselves to that imaginary person, we discover that we always fall short.
There is always some gap.
And the bigger that gap becomes, the more tempting it is to abandon the person who is actually here.
Rev. Gyomay Kubose wrote:
“Do not compare. One’s life is good – absolute good.” [6]
Don’t compare.
Because comparison creates an imaginary standard against which this life is judged.
My life versus the life I should have had.
Myself versus the person I should be.
And perhaps the Dharma is inviting us to stop comparing,
And instead ask:
“Can I be present for the life that is actually here?”
Seeing Without Rejecting
This is where shadow work can become a useful companion to Buddhist practice.
Not:
“How do I get rid of my shadow?”
But:
“What am I unwilling to see?”
What emotion have I decided I’m not allowed to feel?
What need have I decided makes me weak?
What desire have I decided makes me selfish?
What part of my personality have I hidden because someone once told me it was too much?
What part of myself am I still trying to punish into disappearing?
And then perhaps we can try something very simple.
When that part appears, instead of saying:
“Go away.”
We say:
“Ah, there you are.”
“I’ve been trying not to see you.”
“I’ve been trying to make you go away.”
“I’ve been pretending you weren’t part of me.”
“But you are here.”
And perhaps, eventually, we can say:
“Please sit with me.”
Seeing Is Not Approving
Now, this is important:
Receiving ourselves does not mean approving everything we do.
If I have hurt someone, compassion doesn’t mean I don’t take responsibility.
If I’m behaving destructively, compassion doesn’t mean I simply say, “That’s just who I am.”
Seeing clearly is not the same thing as excusing ourselves.
In fact, genuine seeing may make responsibility more possible.
Because when I don’t have to defend myself from the truth about myself, I can finally look at it.
I can say:
I did this.
I was wrong.
I was afraid.
I was jealous.
I was selfish.
I hurt someone.
That is very different from:
“I am a terrible person.”
The first is accountability.
The second is self-abandonment.
Acceptance Is Not Giving Up
This brings us to one of the most important ideas in the Bright Dawn tradition.
Rev. Koyo Kubose describes the Way of Oneness through a simple formula:
U = 2I + 2A = E
Right Understanding = Impermanence + Interdependency → Acceptance + Appreciation → Enlightened Living.[7]
He calls it the Oneness Formula. [7]
I find that incredibly useful for this conversation.
Because first:
Impermanence.
I am not a fixed thing.
I am changing.
I am becoming.
The person I was five years ago isn’t exactly the person I am today.
And the person I am today won’t be exactly the person I am five years from now.
So perhaps I don’t have to defend such a rigid idea of who I am.
And then:
Interdependency.
I didn’t create myself.
I am the product of countless relationships, experiences, conditions, teachers, wounds, gifts, failures, cultures, circumstances, and acts of kindness.
There is no isolated “me” standing apart from life.
As Gyomay Kubose put it:
“There is no ‘I’ as such apart from others.” [8]
So the self I am trying so desperately to protect…
was never completely separate to begin with.
And then comes:
Acceptance.
Not resignation.
Not approval of everything.
But an honest willingness to say:
This is what is here.
And then:
Appreciation.
This life.
This person.
This moment.
Even with all of its imperfections.
Acceptance Is Transcendence
There is a phrase associated with the Bright Dawn tradition that I think is particularly powerful here:
“Acceptance IS transcendence.” [9]
Bright Dawn teachings connect acceptance with the recognition of impermanence and interdependency, and with the movement toward a life of appreciation and awakened living. [7,9]
I think we often imagine transcendence as getting beyond something.
Getting beyond anger.
Getting beyond grief.
Getting beyond fear.
Getting beyond ourselves.
But perhaps transcendence can mean something different.
Not escaping what is here…
but seeing it differently.
Perhaps acceptance doesn’t mean:
“This is good.”
It means:
“This is.”
And when we stop fighting the fact that something is here…
we become free to respond to it.
The Shinran Turn
And this is where Shinran takes us somewhere even deeper.
Because eventually we reach the limit of self-effort.
Eventually we discover:
I cannot save myself by becoming a better version of myself.
I cannot think myself into wholeness.
I cannot perform myself into worthiness.
I cannot eliminate every blind passion.
I cannot become sufficiently pure that I no longer need compassion.
And perhaps that realization isn’t failure.
Perhaps that is wisdom.
Shinran describes self-power as our effort to make ourselves worthy through our own powers and our own calculation. [10]
And that word, calculation, is important.
Because isn’t that what we do with ourselves?
We calculate.
Am I good enough?
Am I spiritual enough?
Am I successful enough?
Am I lovable enough?
Have I done enough?
Have I healed enough?
And underneath all of it is the assumption:
I need to become something other than what I am before I can be okay.
Shinran offers something radically different.
Other Power.
Other Power
Other Power isn’t simply another power that comes along to help us accomplish our goals.
In Shinran’s teaching, Other Power is the working of Amida’s wisdom and compassion, transcending the ordinary separation between self and other. [11]
Shinran quotes Hōnen:
“In Other Power, no working is true working.” [12]
In other words, the calculation is not mine.
The achievement is not mine.
The salvation is not mine.
I don’t manufacture my liberation.
And that changes the question.
Instead of:
“How can I fix myself?”
perhaps we begin asking:
“Can I allow myself to be encountered?”
The Nembutsu
Namo Amida Butsu.
We sometimes think of the Nembutsu as something we do.
Something we say.
Something we practice correctly.
But Shinran’s teaching of Other Power turns that around.
The Nembutsu is not a spiritual accomplishment.
It is the Name through which we encounter the working of the Primal Vow. [12,13]
Shinran writes:
“There is no Name separate from the Vow; there is no Vow separate from the Name.” [13]
And he tells us:
“You must simply entrust yourself to [Amida Buddha].” [13]
That is a very different spiritual posture from:
“I am going to fix myself.”
It is closer to:
“I am willing to receive.”
Receiving Ourselves
Perhaps this is where the pieces finally come together.
The shadow teaches us to notice what we have rejected.
Buddhism teaches us to see our attachments and blind passions.
Bright Dawn teaches us about acceptance and appreciation.
Shinran teaches us to recognize the limits of self-power and entrust ourselves to Other Power.
And together they point toward something I find deeply moving:
Perhaps the opposite of self-abandonment isn’t self-improvement.
Perhaps it is self-receiving.
Receiving the person who is here.
Receiving our contradictions and our limitations.
Receiving our capacity to hurt and our capacity to love.
Receiving the parts of ourselves that we wish were different.
And perhaps ultimately receiving the fact that we are already held within something larger than our own calculations.
This isn’t narcissism.
It isn’t indulgence.
It isn’t saying that everything we do is okay.
It is simply refusing to turn away from the person who is suffering.
Even when that person is us.
Closing
So the next time the shadow appears…
when the part of you that you’ve tried to bury suddenly makes itself known…
maybe we don’t have to say:
“Go away, this isn’t who I am.”
Maybe we can simply pause.
Take a breath.
And say:
“Namo Amida Butsu.”
Not as a declaration that we’ve figured ourselves out.
Not as proof that we are good Buddhists.
Not as another thing we have to accomplish.
But as a reminder:
I don’t have to abandon myself to belong.
I don’t have to become someone else to be worthy of compassion.
I don’t have to save myself.
Maybe the spiritual life isn’t about finally becoming the person we were supposed to be.
Maybe it is learning to stop abandoning the person who is already here.
And perhaps when we stop turning away from ourselves…
we begin to discover that we were never separate from the rest of life to begin with.
That our individuality and our oneness can coexist.
That our brokenness and our beauty can coexist.
That our shadow and our light can coexist.
That acceptance doesn’t require perfection.
And that compassion doesn’t wait for us to become whole.
It meets us here.
Exactly as we are.
Namo Amida Butsu.
References
- Kubose GM. Everyday Suchness: Buddhist Essays on Everyday Living. Bright Dawn Center of Oneness Buddhism; 2025.
- Jung CG. Aion: Researches Into the Phenomenology of the Self. Princeton University Press; 1951.
- Shinran. A letter by Senshin, reply by Shinran. In: Jōdo Shinshū Hongwanji-ha. The Collected Works of Shinran. Jōdo Shinshū Hongwanji-ha; 1997.
- Kubose GM. Be yourself. Oneness. 1998;2(3).
- Harvey P. An Introduction to Buddhism: Teachings, History and Practices. 2nd ed. Cambridge University Press; 2013.
- Kubose GM. Words of wisdom. Oneness. 2001;5(3).
- Kubose KS. Oneness formula. Bright Dawn Center of Oneness Buddhism. Accessed September 7, 2026.
- Kubose GM. Selflessness. Oneness. 2005;9(1).
- Kubose AS, Kubose KS, eds. Oneness. Winter 2014. Bright Dawn Center of Oneness Buddhism; 2014.
- Shinran. According to Shin Buddhism, there are two kinds of people. In: Jōdo Shinshū Hongwanji-ha. The Collected Works of Shinran. Jōdo Shinshū Hongwanji-ha; 1997.
- Jōdo Shinshū Hongwanji-ha. Other Power. In: Shinran Works. Shinran Works. Accessed September 7, 2026.
- Shinran. On Jinen-Hōni. In: Jōdo Shinshū Hongwanji-ha. The Collected Works of Shinran. Jōdo Shinshū Hongwanji-ha; 1997.
- Shinran. The Vow and the Name Are One. In: Jōdo Shinshū Hongwanji-ha. The Collected Works of Shinran. Jōdo Shinshū Hongwanji-ha; 1997.
Everyday Nembutsu 