On a sunny Saturday not long ago, I went hiking with some friends up to San Vicente Mountain. We chose the trail that follows the ridgeline, affording spectacular views in all directions along with really steep dections guaranteed to up all of our heart rates.
Accompanying us was their sweet chocolate Labrador retriever, who raced forward, then back, zigging and zagging her way up the trail. Her owners were carrying water for her, and as the miles ticked by we would periodically stop so that she could lap some and have more poured across her back to cool her down.
By the time we all started back down it was early afternoon; the sun was full strength and she was feeling it. What had been occasional forays into bushes along the way became repeated dives into anything promising darkness and relief from the heat. She would lie there hidden, and panting, until we caught up. And then leap back out to catch up with whoever was in the lead.
Seeking out the shade was so instinctive for her. Gracie does the same thing; when she gets too hot, she drags me over to the nearest patch of dappled grass, flops down and stretches her legs away from her body to luxuriate in the coolness.
There is nothing like that bit of shade when we need a break. Yet shade is getting a bit of a bad rap these days. At least it is in the Urban Dictionary, which defines “throwing shade” on someone as subtly insulting them.[i] The implication being that out in the sun is where we are admired and affirmed. In the bright light is where it is best to be, where we should want to be, all the time. Anything that gets in the way of it is to our detriment. It reduces us.
Or maybe not. It occurs to me that the assumption that it is normal to be out in the sunshine all the time, where everyone is watching and where I must be at my best, is actually dangerous. Because it is such a short step from there to thinking that I am doing enough only when I am there. I am okay only when I am there. So much so that I resist seeking out the shade I need from time to time to protect me from the blazing sun and the searing heat. The shade that invites me to stop. And rest.
Seen from that perspective, someone who “throws shade” in my direction may, ironically, be doing me a favor. Whether the act is malicious or merely thoughtless, they have done for me what I may not be able to do for myself. For in that moment, I may be delivered from the pressure of striving for more – more affirmation, more kudos, more power, more whatever it is that I have become convinced is necessary for my well-being. The place of thrown shade is where I find respite from the glare of my unrelenting expectations for myself, and the exhausting heat of my imagined grandiosity. It is where I am brought face to face with my limitation and contingency. It is where I realize that true wellness lies not only in shining in the sunlight; it lies also in acceptance of my need for shade. Of knowing the blessed relief, chosen or not, of its sweet darkness, safety and protection. Of finding that even there, especially there, I am met by the One who is ever inviting, ever welcoming me into Presence.
The LORD is your keeper;
the LORD is your shade at your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
The LORD will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time on and for evermore. Ps. 121:5-8
[i] https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Throw%20shade
