Imagine a starless night where the hoot of Alakshmi’s owl echoes through the corridors of your subconscious, and Egypt’s Shuyet slinks across the walls of your living room like a stray cat that knows your secrets. It’s World Goth Day, and the shadows are having a house party.
As someone who’s spent decades in clinical practice—often shoulder-deep in human messiness—and even deeper in the nooks of hypnotherapy, I can’t help but chuckle. Because let’s be honest: most people don’t walk in saying, “Doctor, I would like to embrace the vast cosmic void within me.” No. They come in saying, “Fix it. Fast. And make it look like sunshine.”
But World Goth Day, ah, now here’s a celebration that finally aligns with what true healing sometimes looks like—disheveled, honest, and unapologetically dressed in black. It’s the day we say, “Move over, toxic positivity. I’ve got rage, and grief, and the leftover anxiety of seven generations.”
It’s curious how often spiritual paths are portrayed as a gleaming ascent—white light, angel numbers, turmeric lattes. But what if the real path to authenticity slinks through the foggy moors of our mind, wearing fishnet gloves and smudged eyeliner? What if spirituality is less about basking in enlightenment and more about slow dancing with our demons under a crescent moon?
That’s where Goth comes in. Or more precisely, where Gothic sensibility sidles in like a black cat with impeccable taste in poetry. The Goth aesthetic, as I once wrote about, isn’t about morbidity—it’s about honesty. It’s about holding space for the jagged edges we’re told to hide. And in my consulting room, that often looks like someone discovering their Alakshmi.
Yes, Alakshmi. The less-famous, more fabulous sister of Lakshmi. She doesn’t get temples or Instagram filters. She gets blamed for quarrels, dust bunnies, and the last piece of cake mysteriously vanishing. But oh, she’s magnificent in her chaos. If Lakshmi is the gilded prosperity everyone courts, Alakshmi is the awkward aunt who knocks over the teacups and asks real questions. Like, “So, when are you going to stop pretending that rage isn’t yours?”
In a parallel universe—or maybe just Egypt—Shuyet, the shadow soul, hangs back with similar sass. Not quite the ka (vital spark), not quite the ba (personality), she’s that silent twin we all carry. The one who doesn’t make small talk. She just knows. I imagine her rolling her eyes every time someone insists they’ve “moved on” from a trauma without ever having acknowledged it. She’s the one who whispers at 3 a.m., “No, darling, you haven’t. Now get up and write that poem.”
Shadow work, in essence, is the act of sitting down with Alakshmi and Shuyet. Not to banish them, but to pour them tea. Preferably in chipped mugs under a flickering bulb. It’s the journaling under candlelight when black ink is more comforting than gold. It’s the hypnotherapy session where someone finally stops smiling and starts sobbing. And somewhere in the sobbing, they remember who they are beneath all the pleasing.
You see, the Goth way makes room for that. It doesn’t insist on “good vibes only.” It doesn’t pathologize sadness or panic or rage. It just…witnesses. I once had a patient burst into laughter mid-meltdown. Not because the problem was solved, but because she realised she had been hiding it under seven layers of spiritual bypassing. Alakshmi cackled in the corner, I swear.
There’s a certain poetry to how both Indian cosmology and Egyptian mythology allow room for these shadow figures. We have Bhuvaneshwari’s void, the vastness that holds all possibility. We have Shuyet, who doesn’t disappear just because we’re pretending. And we have the divine drama of daivas and asuras where the line between villain and guru is just a question of which chapter you’re reading.
In my Goth temple (which, let’s be honest, is my mind), the altar has black candles, Jupiter mantras, and a healthy dash of Bauhaus. The offerings are doodles, sighs, and the occasional snort of laughter when someone realises their inner chaos is actually kind of brilliant. Some bring rangoli. In monochrome. Why not?
Spirituality, then, isn’t always about becoming lighter. Sometimes it’s about becoming more whole. Reclaiming the bits that were shamed, silenced, or simply forgotten. World Goth Day gives us cultural permission to do this with flair—lace gloves, eyeliner, and all.
So today, I honour the missteps that taught me more than the milestones. I honour the moments I thought I was breaking, but was really just molting. I honour every client who had the courage to look into their own abyss and say, “Alright then. Let’s see what’s down there.”
And tonight, under the banyan tree, I might just light a candle for Alakshmi. She’ll arrive late, of course, probably tripping over something. Shuyet will glide in quietly, settling into the shadows like she never left. Together, we’ll sip on bitter tea, listen to Bhairavi raga crossed with Bauhaus, and laugh at the absurdity of trying to make the dark go away when all it wants is to be seen.
🖤 Script for World Goth Day Post (Gothic Style with Invocation) 🖤
🌒 “O shadow that dwells beneath the skin,
Mirror to our fire and storm within—
On this World Goth Day, we summon the sacred dark:
Shuyet, keeper of silent truths,
Alakshmi, bearer of chaos and unmet hunger—
Come forth.
Cloak us not in fear, but in fierce knowing.
Let us walk the line between ruin and revelation.” 🌘
Today, we honour the Goth spirit—not just black lipstick and lace, but the powerful invitation to face what’s been buried. 💀🖤
In Egyptian mythology, Shuyet is the shadow soul—silent witness to every choice we make.
In Vedic lore, Alakshmi walks in when neglect creeps in. She’s the disheveled sister of fortune, the one who rattles our comfort zones.
Why invoke them?
Because growth begins in the dark.
Because your discomfort is a doorway.
Because your shadow is not your shame—it’s your teacher.
🖤 Today, dress your soul in black velvet.
Light a candle to what’s been lost.
Speak kindly to your chaos.
Dare to listen to your silence.
Celebrate your edge, your ache, your otherness.
✨ This isn’t morbidity—it’s magic.
It’s the power of integration. Of seeing yourself whole.
🖤 Quirky Engagement
Poll Time:
Which Goth Day shadow speaks to you today?
🗳️ Alakshmi’s Chaos – messy, real, and unsettling
🗳️ Shuyet’s Silence – watching, waiting, deeply knowing
drop your choice in the comment belows.
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