But confronting the Shadow doesn’t have to be a solitary journey. In fact, I’ve found that building a spiritual community requires abandoning toxic positivity. We need what psychiatrist Wilfred Bion called a "container"—a psychological space that holds our raw, unfiltered experiences without trying to "fix" them immediately. When a community rushes to soothe every discomfort, it actually prevents real growth. True community building isn't about making everyone feel good all the time; it's about creating a safe environment where vulnerability is met with understanding, not judgment.

Think of The Hanged Man. He represents suspension, patience, and seeing the world upside-down. A healthy community encourages this suspended state, allowing members to sit with their discomfort, question their assumptions, and emerge with deeper self-knowledge. We don’t need more motivational quotes; we need radical honesty and mutual respect.

How do we cultivate this kind of safe container? I believe it starts by normalizing the dark corners of the psyche. When we share our shadow work openly, we give others permission to do the same. I’d love to hear how you approach building communities that embrace the full spectrum of human experience, especially the parts we usually hide. What practices or boundaries have worked for you in creating a space where The Devil’s chains can be safely examined and ultimately broken?