In my late teens and early twenties, Peter Pan was a huge role model and inspiration for me.
He lived in the moment. He took wild initiative with a confident joie de vivre very few adults can match (with the possible exception of Johnny Deep at his best).
He always led with charm, play and imagination, was unpredictably spontaneous and openly defiant of all the expectations placed upon us a twentysomething about to make their way into society.
Seriously…what’s not to love about this dude?
It’s not that I didn’t want to grow up per sé. It’s that I haven’t seen any proof whatsoever that the tradeoff was worth it. Where was this radiant aliveness in the adults of society? Nowhere to be found, it seemed to me. Trust and pixie dust seemed to be rare commodities.
So I followed Peter. I made him part of my identity. In many ways I embodied him (and when I’m at my best, I still embody many of his qualities).
What I love about Peter Pan’s story is that at first sight, it doesn’t follow the traditional “hero’s journey” arc.
Peter has all the qualities of a hero. He’s this wildly attractive, charismatic character with a certain magical allure. But he’s also the loser in “his” own story.
And that’s because the story is not really his.
It goes much deeper, and it’s full of details I missed.
This post contains a few of them. And without spoiling too much, I promise to offer at least:
- 1 hidden romance
- 1 conspiracy theory
- 2 sets of journal prompts
- 2 characters who don’t get the credit they deserve
Let’s roll
Why Does Peter Pan’s Shadow Run Away?
Peter Pan is locked in a comical dance with his shadow. It keeps trying to escape him.
Peter Pan’s relationship to his shadow is one of the most symbolically rich parts of the story, and one of the most accessible details to dive into, because the symbolism of the shadow already exists in (Jungian) psychology:
The shadow is the unconscious part of the personality that contains repressed qualities, desires, and traits that the conscious self refuses to acknowledge.
Peter can sense this. He knows an important part of him is missing. He knows that to feel “whole” again, he has to have his shadow.
So he keeps chasing his shadow around the room, trying to get it to “walk in line” with him. But his shadow refuses to obey. Which makes sense, because Peter’s shadow is the shadow of Peter. And Peter’s whole shtick is that he doesn’t allow anyone to tell him what to do. Your relationship to authority covers the authority within yourself too.
Wendy helps him fix it, and he immediately celebrates—not just the reunion with his shadow, but Wendy’s usefulness and nurturing care.
So thanks to Wendy, Peter feels “whole again”. But remember, he didn’t manage to reattach his shadow by himself.
In Jungian psychology, integration is the process of acknowledging and embracing repressed aspects of the self to unlock hidden potential and achieve greater wholeness.
Peter did not do this. Instead, Peter met Wendy who made him feel whole again. (Classic move—skip therapy, fall in love. Lifehack!)
Peter Pan wants the perks of wholeness without the costs (integration).
And he’s pretty successful at creating that experience for himself (thanks to his magic powers—which you might have too! But more on that later).
As long as Peter counts on Wendy to deal with his elusive shadow, his shadow will keep running away from him. Because it’s Peter’s shadow, and Peter’s running away from himself.
I promise I’m going somewhere less obvious with this, but we need a few more building blocks first.
Let’s pay a visit to one of the other characters Peter Pan has beef with:
Captain Hook: A Necessary Nemesis
Sure, Peter has issues with authority.
But that’s not necessarily a bad thing:
I think crys is spot on here. And the world would probably benefit from more people questioning unearned (or needlessly forceful/self-indulgent) authority.
In Peter Pan’s world, Neverland, all the adults are like that. I mean, they’re literally a bunch of pirates. Not the most ethical dudes, and they seem to be angry and stressed all the time.
…which is what the adults of planet earth looked like to me when I was in my early to mid-twenties.
So as I was on the edge of physical adulthood, it seemed like I had a choice who to become:
A) Angry, stressed-out, ugly, frustrated Hook—obsessed with punishing a child, until he eventually dies by suicide-by-crocodile.
B) Charismatic, fun, magical Peter—who never has to pay taxes, gets all the pussy (and probably the D, too, if he wants)…and, lest we forget, can frikkin’ fly.
In case it wasn’t clear: I picked B.
I followed Peter. And I got all the perks Peter promised.
I also ended up just like him: A lost boy. Trapped in Neverland. Running away from my shadow. Chasing wholeness without the cost of growth.
But what’s a boy to do? It’s not like the world is full of examples of healthy male role models. Captain hook’s not the worst of them. At least he’s still a captain of some sorts.
I imagine that’s how it goes for many adults: We need to be captains, so sometimes we act a bit like hook.
In fact, I’ll own it, I’m speaking for myself here:
When I’m at my best, I’m basically a Peter Pan who entered an alternate timeline in which he grew up, never lost his magic, fully committed to Wendy and fucking knocked it out of the park in the adult world. I have limitless energy, sprinkle plenty of pixie dust on everything or everyone I meet—and it wouldn’t be that wild to claim that I can fly.
When I’m at my worst, I spend my days steering the ship away from a relentless crocodile who swallowed a ticking clock that reminds me of my own mortality a little too much. My jaw tightens. My brow contracts. I get serious, hyperfocused on what (or whom) I perceive to be some kind of problem. And it would be accurate to say that I operate as if I only have one hand.
The problem for Hook is that he has to be Hook.
He can’t not be Hook, because someone has to be the adult. And the rest of the world are a bunch of lost boys and his own incompetent crew. (This is the tell-tale sign for me that I’m hooked into hook-mode: When I start to think that people are incompetent or irresponsible, it’s probably time for me to Peter up a bit.)
Hook is scared for his life. Obviously. Hook has no Wendy to conveniently sew his shadow back on. Hook follows self-help influencers who tell him things like “harsh truth: no-one’s going to come and save you” and “if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself”. He resents everyone and everything. He probably follows Andrew Tate on Twitter (in neverland they still call it “Twitter”).
He is completely dysregulated and his only way to access his masculine strength is through posturing. But you gotta hand it to the guy: As unpleasant as he is, he’s still steering the ship. Somebody cut off his hand, but instead of being a baby about it he just watched a David Goggins reel and concluded it couldn’t hurt him.
It’s tragic.
I’m sorry if this is politically correct, and I hope I don’t get cancelled for this, but:
Captain hook is as much a victim as he is a villain in this story. And Peter is the villain in his.
But they need each other to exist, and that’s the clue to a first plot-twist:
It Takes 2 to Tango
This might not be the most obvious part of the story (because of the fact that they want to kill each other), but Hook and Peter desperately need each other.
There’s nothing more convenient for a kid like Peter than having a Hook around.
Peter’s biggest problem is that, as much as he wants to feel whole, it’s impossible for him to integrate his psychological shadow without also ceasing to be “Peter Frikkin’ Pan”.
The moment that Peter would fully admit: “OK look guys, I am a powerful magical being, OBVS! Lots of power in this dude. That’s how I make all this fun stuff happen. So yes, I am consciously exercising my personal responsibility to make irresponsible choices. Because frankly, it’s a lot of fun. Deal with it.”, he would lose all his charm and boyish innocence.
Integrating his shadow would pull him out of Neverland, and turn him from the sexy MF he was into some sad stoner that refuses to grow the fudge up.
He would lose the respect of the lost boys. He would lose all that pristine pussy (and any of that sweet D he choice to enjoy) and go from being “Prince of Neverland” to just an average guy that’s rather unreliable and dresses weirdly.
Turns out, integrating your shadow isn’t that much fun without a Wendy to sew it back on.
Peter desperately needs Hook, so that he has a prime example of how bad adulthood can get. An opponent he can point at and say “Citizens of neverland, this is the kind of totalitarianism and hipocrisy I am committed to defend us all against.”
Hook’s tyranny provides the necessary tension for Peter’s boyish freedom to have any meaning. Without that dynamic, Peter’s lack of commitment and deeper emotional challenges would be impossible to ignore, stripping him of his heroic charm and showing him to his followers as he really is: a child unwilling to mature.
But Hook provides Peter with a convenient narrative that makes his irresponsible actions look like the only logical moral choice for Neverland’s people.
Hook, on the other hand, is furious about the fact that Peter exists. Because Peter is free and doesn’t bother making responsible choices.
But in reality, both of them are failing to make responsible choices.
Peter defaults to the “irresponsible choice”. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t possess the ability to be responsible though—he simply chooses not to care.
Hook doesn’t allow himself not to care. He deeply cares. And he doesn’t allow himself to make irresponsible choices like Peter. So he’s locked in a rigid position where he always has to make the responsible ones and it’s draining every last bit of life out of him.
As a result, he grows resentful. Which causes him to fixate on killing Peter, while slowly kiling himself in the process and making himself blind to all the beauty around him. These are wildly irresponsible choices too.
Hook and Peter are way more alike than they care to admit.
They are basically the same essence expressed in opposite ways.
While he may appear that way on the surface, Hook isn’t an adult at all. He feels completely trapped. He lacks all sense of agency.
Chased by the sound of his own short life ticking away while he watches Peter make light of it all and wishes he could find the agency to do the same.
Enraged about having a hook for a hand, while Peter moves with the ease and agility of a carefree kid who hasn’t yet been faced with the reality of how fragile a human body can be.
Hook desperately needs Peter to exist. Because then he can be pissed at Peter and posture his way into feeling like a big, bad man. He is closing his heart to the world, so that he never has to face the truth:
That captain Hook, is the lostest boy of all.
In fact, he is so lost, that he does not realize himself to be a boy—because he is too busy posturing as what he believes a man should be.
And he doesn’t realize he’s lost—because he spends his days playing captain, which gives him a sense of direction. But in reality, his direction is decided by Peter.
Because Peter embodies the boy Hook desperately craves to reconnect with. But he’s also terrified of that boy—because the boy represents irresponsibility. And Hook believes that if he’d let that in, the whole world would collapse. Which is why he postures so hard in the first place.
But Peter, while he would never admit it, needs Hook just as much.
These 2 people are literally obsessed with each other.
They claim to hate each other to the core, yet they spend their days passionately pursuing each other.
In fact, the passion is so intense that it’s all consuming. Literally all their friends’ lives are dominated by this dance.
They are the defining force in each other’s existence, and they can not lose each other without losing themselves.
Honestly, Peter and Hook should just get it over with and admit they have the hots for each other.
May I suggest the following pick-up line:
“Hey Peter, for all these years, I’ve been a closet pan-sexual. wanna…hook up?”
Optional conspiracy theory as a palate cleanser before we get serious again:
I think the homoerotic story is actually the true story of Peter Pan, but that the government covered up the evidence.
I believe Hook and Peter kissed, went to second base and probably a many more bases beyond.
I know it sounds preposterous. But you gotta be willing question everything, and do your own research. Hear me out:
What if Hook faked his own death? Then, after Peter ditched Wendy, the bros finally reunited on their little love island and did a bunch of things the catholic church would disagree with.
Eventually, one of them got pregnant (it’s Hook, it has to be Hook—but I won’t go into details why, you can ask a dominatrix to elaborate).
If at this point, you’re like “boys can’t get pregnant, Pep!”, stay with me and look at the evidence, okay?
The child is Jack Sparrow. This is undeniable. Because he is exactly the sort of person that would get born when you put Peter’s magical pixie dust into hook’s brawny body.
Disney obviously knew about this. But they never told anybody. Instead, they took the child from its parents and used it to make a few more blockbuster movies.
It’s not that hard, you just gotta follow the money, bro. The money always tells the story:
There was only one person they could cast for this role. And that was Johnny Depp. Because as you may recall, Johnny Depp at his best was the only adult who possessed Peter-Pan like qualities.
This eventually put Johnny and Disney in the same dance as Hook and Peter:
Disney needed Johnny, Because without Johnny, Jack Sparrow would lose his magic and be revealed for exactly what he was: A hollow character designed to extract as much money as possible out of the people he enchanted.
But Johnny also needed Disney because they were a perfect finger to point at for why his career was losing some of that same magic.
Eventually, Amber, who did her own research too, managed to save Johnny by creating a situation that would cause Disney to fire him, even if it cost her her own reputation.
Illuminati confirmed. Boom
Reconciling Opposing Forces As One
I promise we’ll soon get to the next hidden detail—which will finally reveal who is the real main character of the story. But first, let’s take a moment to reflect:
How might everything we just looked at serve us in some way?
When my brain is dreaming up adult erotic fan-fiction and re-branding it as conspiracy theories to make it safe for work, what it’s really telling me is that it wants Peter and Hook to make love inside me.
It’s a fun joke for this blog post. But it’s also a real desire.
My inner Hook may be obsessed by the ticking clock, but my inner Peter refuses to acknowledge its existence, and this robs him of taking it into account for his decisions (which is exactly what causes me to feel like time is chasing me sometimes).
Peter avoids his own shadow and refuses to grow. Hook is devoured by his shadow, there’s little else left.
Embodying Hook’s bitterness and determination is an easy way for me to access adulthood when otherwise I’d be Petering all over the place.
But when I’m Hook, I inevitably lose sight of what matters most in life. Sure, Hook’s a captain. But all he wants is to stop Peter. He’s not concerned with sailing somewhere beautiful.
When I’m busy Peter-ing, I’m a magical being with infinite energy who surprises himself with how much fun he can have (case in point: my inner Peter has been writing this in full stream-of-consciousness mode and doesn’t even care if anyone ever reads it because he had fun writing it).
My inner Peter has the coolest ideas but he’d never show up to put in the work (even though he’s the driving force behind my career).
Luckily I have a strong Hook inside me, who enforces some rules in my life. But when I’m letting him operate, he simply refuses to see the carefree and immature choices as an option.
This is limiting. Because those options do exist. I can make irresponsible choices, should the situation call for it. And when I don’t allow myself to, I burn out.
I can’t be the only one feeling this way, right?
There must be other adults with a little Neverland inside?
(Maybe all those adults who look like Hooks to me become little Peters when no one’s watching? Honestly I don’t know.)
Anyway, if you recognize yourself in this description, here are ways our inner Peter and Hook can get cosy with each other:
Peter’s awareness of life and Hook’s awareness of death seem to be equally helpful for living the good life.
The way to free our Hook inner from his never-ending struggle with time is to invite him to face his mortality. But to face it with Peter’s attitude. To say: “Yes. I only have only life. I’m going to die one of these days. So I will enjoy the beauty each of them has to offer, and add to it wherever I can.”
And our inner Peter will never escape his own prison until he accepts the limitations of his play. Because you can’t be fully free unless that includes the freedom to be constrained.
He must honor the limited capacity and resources he is given. Because when he doesn’t, everything crumbles. His play becomes all-consuming. And eventually, his world implodes. Leaving a big mess for the adults to clean up (which they won’t, so instead he ends up alone, depressed about his mess).
Peter would benefit from a proper sit-down with Hook about what it takes to be a captain. To navigate the changing tides without causing the ship to capsize. To know when to abandon the fun in favor of duty.
This will help him take responsibility to protect the long-term sustainable condition that maximize the amount of fun we can have.
The wholeness Peter craves is in his shadow. And the release which Hook desires is hidden in his.
Because, mini plot twist:
I think Peter and Hook are each other’s shadow. Peter doesn’t realize what a highly capable adult he is—he is in denial of his own power, but is exercising it all the time.
Hook doesn’t realize what a free spirit he is—he believes he’s an adult trapped in a race he can’t escape, but he’s literally a pirate spending his days in Neverland.
Most of my own shadow traits seem to be inversions of the personality traits I’m most attached to.
When I polarize to one side on the spectrum of 2 traits, I continue to embody the opposite
But when I don’t cling to a specific position on the spectrum, my shadow seems to stop clinging too.
I don’t think this is a coincidence. I think this is by design.
By trying to be “one thing—and not this other opposing thing!”, we create the same struggle Peter and Hook are stuck in:
2 sides of the same coin, trying really hard not to be the other…and in doing so, unknowingly acting exactly like it.
Some examples of what that looks like and how to fix it:
1)
I haven’t been making enough quality time for any of my friends because I’m trying to make quality time with 100s of them. Classic Peter Pan move.
The way to balance it is to acknowledge my adult powers:
“I conciously choose to use my personal responsibility to make choices which involve dedicating less time to people than I’d love to.”
This gives me my shadow back. So now I can choose where to use that shadow:
A) Am I going to tell a bunch of people “I love you, but right now, I’m focusing my limited time on a handful people, and adding this to my calendar means saying no to them.”
B) Am I going to tell everyone: “It’s important to me to have 100 friends, so guys, are you all okay with seeing me once a quarter?”
Neither of these choices are great. Both of them involve being an asshole to people who love you. But by being a little Peter who just has fun with everyone he loves, I inevitably ended up in a position where I just disappoint the people who are the least pushy about meeting up, and don’t consciously choose who to spend less time on.
2)
I often make choices in business where my logic is “‘I’m not taking this opportunity, because it comes at the expense of someone else. And I don’t want that.”
But if those choices cause me to make less and be late with an invoice, that means the choice I made (not to take the opportunity), did come at someone else’s expense. I just didn’t consciously choose who. I was too busy pretending my own financial choices don’t impact everyone else I deal with..
The way out is to see that I have the freedom to make “irresponsible” choices, but that if I do, I better make sure I’m choosing them consciously. So that I know what the risk is—and can consult anyone else who might be affected by that.
Journal prompts to play with:
Where or how am I telling myself that I’m a specific kind of person, and people who are not that way are bad?
In which way might my refusal to be such a person, make me more likely to be it?
If I could not avoid doing the thing I intend not to do, how would I choose to use it?
Who Is the Main Character In Peter Pan?
In the title of this blog post, I claimed that Peter Pan wasn’t the main character of “his own” story.
No, I think Peter only appeared to be the focus of the story because that’s what boys like to make themselves out to be.
The story all starts with Wendy meeting Peter.
She follows Peter, even when it all seems a bit weird and risky. She climbs up to the roof and does everything he tells her to do. And as a result, she gets to fly to a world full of magical delights.
But Wendy, just like Peter, is unaware of her own shadow.
She believes that she’s experiencing all this magic because of following him, and she’s unaware what a powerful, magical being she is herself.
To the other inhabitants of the Neverland, this is balatantly obvious. Wendy’s mere presence changes everything for them. Peter’s magic includes the power to initiate amazing experiences. But Wendy’s magic makes the whole world shine differently—and she doesn’t know this yet. She believes it’s Peter who makes her world magical. (But all Peter’s doing is rocking it—for better or for worse.)
Wendy is seduced by Peter’s magic and taken to (what feels like) a paradise unlike anything she’s experienced before. But the only way for her to get there is to lose touch with the real world. To fly away.
And once she entered this magical realm, full of fun and stimulation, she was quickly given the same position as many of the most important women in the history of humanity:
Holding the whole plot together for everyone (and making sure the male characters keep their shadow in check), while mostly disappearing into the background while the boys make noise, shooting at each other with their cannons and catapults, believing that what they are doing is the most important thing in the world(tm) while failing to see the bigger picture.
Wendy gets brought into a magical world and made to believe that she’s a guest, while really she’s a necessity. Because without her nurturing, everything falls apart.
Wendy’s Shadow
Wendy’s predicament is that Peter is offering her the most fun she’s ever had—and the joy of exercising her magic.
But also, Peter is a fuckboi.
Peter is a perfect playmate, he can literally take her to a place where time doesn’t exist but pleasure is everywhere.
He’s also a terrible partner, because he doesn’t have any intention of g(r)o(w)ing anywhere with her. He wants her to stay at his place so he can use her energy to meet his own selfish needs.
He gives her just enough magic, mystery, and sparkle to make her want to stay in Neverland. But not enough responsibility, devotion, protection, or partnership to support her magic to ever mean anything in the real world.
She can fly with him. But never land. (*ba-dum-tss*)
Peter will never commit to Wendy, because that would mean he’d make an adult decision. He would put a limitation on his play, integrate his shadow and lose Neverland. Which sucks for him, because Neverland is his entire kingdom. And freedom is cool.
But as long as he chooses freedom over devotion, he can not fully love Wendy.
This is true from Peter Pan’s point of view—but it’s an illusion. Commiting to Wendy wouldn’t make him lose his freedom because it’s impossible to commit yourself to anything unless you’re free.
And this is a prime example of Peter not being aware of his shadow. Because his whole method for flying works the exact way that commitment works:
There seems to be magic in commitment. In the sense that, once committed, I do it, even if I don’t know how.
The hard part for me is committing. When I jump and find out mid-air I’m not committed, I don’t make it.
When I’m committed, I land thinking “How did that happen?”
All it takes is trust and a little bit of pixie dust.
Peter sees commitment as obligation (which is, by the way, how Hook sees it too, because Hook and Peter are two sides of the same coin), so he fails to see what a powerfully committed guy he is.
But unbeknowst to him, he is one of the most committed people in the world. When he jumps, his entire soul says “I am committed to never land”, and the rest is his story.
Here’s the thing though:
Peter’s not a bad guy. He has a great heart. Calling him a fuckboi was perhaps a bit harsh. Mostly, he’s just a boi.
He has no clue what he’s doing to Wendy, because half the time he doesn’t have a clue where his shadow is.
Wendy loves both Peter and his shadow. She’s sewn them together many times. She’ll gladly support him through the process of fixing his issues.
But Peter doesn’t really understand a woman’s love. He only understands a mother’s touch. Because, well, he’s a boi.
Peter is like Narcissus and Neverland is the pond through which he stares at his own reflection. He obsesses over the drama between him and Hook (so that he can continue never growing up) and this prevents him from seeing Wendy’s needs.
I think that Peter Pan genuinely wanted to offer Wendy his entire world. But because he didnt have his shadow integrated, he couldn’t see that in he was also taking the entire world from Wendy.
(Another great example of what happens when we avoid recognizing the other side of the coin.)
Peter Pan refuses to see his own dirty tricks. He’s literally chasing his shadow around the room with a bar of soap. He does want to attach it back to him, but he’s trying to do it cleanly. (Wendy is another way to do it cleanly because Wendy does it with love—both allow him to have his shadow without having to feel shame.)
I relate to this a lot. It’s not uncommon for me to realize I’ve been chasing my shadow with soap, and that the only way to claim it back is:
- Be willing to accept the grief that comes with decisions (because every decision involves saying no to someting that could have existed)
- Forgiving myself for making them—because it’s impossible not to make them (not choosing is choosing not to choose)
In other words, I think Peter Pan had a heart full of love for Wendy. But the only way for that love to pour out would’e been to allow his heart to break (by grieving the loss of Neverland and forgiving himself for the sacrifices that lay in the shadow of his choices).
He refused to go through this initiation into adulthood, even after defeating hook. He was so attached to his paradise that he lost it all.
But Wendy did exactly what Peter was too scared to do, and that’s what makes her such a hero: Wendy integrated her shadow.
She could’ve stayed in Neverland and had infinite fun with Peter.
But that would’ve also meant she’d spend her life using her magic powers sewing Peter’s shadow back on, only for him to lose it again because that’s what fuckbois do.
So she had to learn to be more decisive in who to give all her wonderful feminine magic to.
She realized it had to be a person who supported her too, in a way that amplified her magic so that it could expand into the world and bless everything it touched.
Not someone who seduced her with some fun stimulation but usurped all the magic (knowing very well he had no intention of ever holding up his end of the deal), but someone who gave her a space to expand into more of herself.
She chose to leave, let it break her heart, grieve the loss of neverland and forgive herself for sacrificing Peter’s love in the shadow of her choices.
Wendy’s return to the real world wasn’t a loss, but a reclamation of her power.
Her evolution was realizing her love is sacred, and it belongs in a world that can reciprocate it.
Wendy went from enchanted to embodied. And from muse to maker. While never forgetting the magic that Peter gave her.
(Peter on the other hand, forgot the promise he made her—because honoring it would once again make him an adult and kick him out of Neverland.)
Who Is Wendy’s Husband In Peter Pan?
Wendy starts out as the protagonist, loses herself in Peter’s world and eventually—after inegrating her own shadow traits, such as over-giving and delegating her own sense of directions— comes out as the main character again.
Now she is supported by what appears to be a good, and rather unremarkable husband. We don’t even know his name. I’m sure plenty of red-pill authors would have some scary theories about what that means, but I have a different one:
We don’t hear much about who this guy is. I like to call him Whatshisface. But not in a demeaning way. Because he’s a hero in his own right.
He’s not flashy, he doesn’t immediately sweep people off their feet the way Peter does, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t possess the same magic.
Peter needs to be at the center of the story. That’s part of how he seduces. He did with me, too. I watched the movie and believed him to be the hero. When all this time, Wendy was the heroine.
I don’t think Wendy is settling. I think her new guy is using his magic to offer her an environment for her to use her magic in.
This is what Peter Pan tried to do for her too, but he wasn’t mature enough to not take the spotlight.
It’s like having a fantastic dancer who offers to lead her, but then he basically hogs the dancefloor because he wants everyone to see what a great dancer he is.
Meanwhile, Wendy’s new guy doesn’t feel this need to prove himself, perform or dominate. He just offers her a grounded space, dissolves into the rhythm and guides her by attuning his magic to hers. He becomes the axis around which she dances and shines and gets to show off her light.
I’m only describing this within the confines of traditional “husband and wife”, because that’s simply where the movie ends.
What if Wendy and Whatshisface are once again each other’s shadow in some way—and that’s what makes their love story almost as passionate as Peter and Hook’s?
Will they enter another type of dance, where there is no leader and follower any more?
Where life becomes what’s leading them and both Wendy and her husband flow between these different traits they saw as opposites before?
(And what if after that, life and humans turn out to be each other’s shadow, begging to be reconciled? OK Pep, ignore this rabbit hole . You have a job to do.)
The First Step Is Knowing You Don’t Know
The story of Peter is somewhat tragic, because Peter was on the right track.
He knew he had lost his shadow.
That’s not an easy thing. Because where our shadow usually is, is exactly where we don’t find it:
Behind us, while we’re facing the light.
It’s futile to think we can ever fully integrate it—so maybe that’s another reason Peter’s shadow was so slippery.
No matter how much we grow or change, we will either have a shadow (a side-effect of being in the light), or be completely in the dark.
But the more we make decisions with awareness that we have a shadow and what it might look like, the more mature those decisions will be.
I see this over and over. Every decision I make does have a shadow.
If I look at the best decisions I ever made, or made with the best intentions, they did cast a dark shadow which I was unaware of at the time.
Maturity is excepting the grief of the shadow we cast by embodying our light.
But I do think that we become better people by re-claiming as much of our shadow as we can—without frantically chasing it with a bar of soap.
And this usually goes in three steps:
- Awareness: We start by noticing projections and triggers—those moments when something in the outside world stirs a strong reaction. (Like hook does in Peter, or Peter does in Wendy, for example.)
- Acceptance: Instead of rejecting or denying those parts, we make space to acknowledge their existence without judgment.
- Integration: We consciously engage with the shadow, learning from it, and allowing its energy to inform us in positive, constructive ways.
Wendy did all three.
Peter stopped halfway step one, and that is how his story ends.
He’s stuck in Neverland all alone. Everyone he loved has left him and the place is no longer fun.
Okay, that’s not the final scene of Peter Pan, is it? There’s still a little wink at the end.
Eventually, Peter seduces Wendy’s daughter too (which is super creepy and/or deserves a high five).
Because Peter may refuse getting initiated into adulthood but, magical being that he is, he’s still a great initiator.
Wendy knows this and responds by integrating the next part of her shadow:
Instead of rushing in to save her daughter from the heartbreak about to hit her, she responds with a mix of nostalgia, gentle sorrow and resignation. Letting go of the fact that his person is no longer just a daughter, but about to become her own person now. And that takes learning some painful lessons.
When Wendy was a child, she asked her mom: “Why can’t you fly now, Mother?”
And her mom replied: “Because I am grown up, dearest. When people grow up they forget the way.”
Later, when Wendy’s a mom, she tells Peter “I can’t come, I have forgotten how to fly.”
Peter looks at her sorrowfully, seeing her shake his head, his eyes are filled with tears.
I don’t buy it though.
Wendy remembers. She’s passing on every story to her kids, full of delight.
But she knows that to Peter, growing up is betrayal. If Wendy told him the truth—that she chose this life, chose to stay, chose to love and be loved in the ever-thickening world of adulthood—it might shatter him.
So perhaps Wendy’s words are her final gift to Peter. A soft lie to spare him the ache of abandonment:
“I didn’t leave you, Peter. Time took me. Gravity won. I tried to hold on, but I slipped.“
When the truth might be:
“I loved you. But I also wanted more. And I chose to grow.“
—Objection, your honor. Speculation.—
But this entire blog post is speculation? Will you let me finish?
—Alright, but make it quick.—
What If Wendy Lied to Peter?
If Wendy did indeed tell a white lie, here’s what I imagine that to mean:
Wendy has learned it’s kind not to crush people’s world. Let them believe the story they have the capacity to handle, while you handle your end—after all, what difference does this make? Wendy’s not coming back with him either way.
She knows how much a child’s heart can hold—and how much it can’t. She’s not being dishonest out of cowardice; she’s a wise woman protecting something. And I think it’s not just Peter’s heart:
Being shattered by the truth might be exactly the kind of initiation Peter needs.
The only way for him to integrate his shadow is to become aware how powerful of a creator and destroyer he is. If he would experience being destroyed by a situation of his own creation, it might finally iniate him from a boy into a man.
I think Wendy’s compassionate, forgiving genius goes deeper then telling Peter “it’s not you, it’s me”.
That’s how women are (or at least how I experience them), whenever you think they’re awesome: think again. They’re double awesome, but you’re not seeing as much as them.
What if Wendy’s intuition knows full well that offering Peter Pan the truth would initiate him?
That not lying would mean this beautiful, seductive fuckboi with a heart of gold grows up and stops initiating the future girls of planet earth. Who will have to do it then? Perhaps a different dude with worse intentions, and that’s no good for anyone.
Deep down, she realizes that Peter’s commitment to Neverland is in loving service to the women of this world too. And part of the sacrifice it takes is their heartbreak and his loneliness. But he will never stop loving them, and that’s a whole lot better than many other men.
Yes, he breaks hearts. But he offers something else: a deep, early love that awakens the feminine to her own fullness, her own choice, her own capacity to remember even when he forgets. (Because remember: It takes a breaking heart to first allow the love to pour out.)
He doesn’t even abandon her, ever. He empowers her to abandon him. He sacrifices his own evolution and chains himself to a lonely paradise so he can keep offering that gift. Over and over again.
(Oh by the way, Peter’s essence as an initiator spirit can appear through the body of a woman too. But in this story, he’s a dude.)
This of course begs the question: Who will initiate the Peters of this world?
It’s not Wendy, she loves him too much.
And it’s not Hook, because Hook’s a lost boy fighting hard to convince himself he’s a big, bad man.
Maybe it’s Whathisface.
Maybe it’s Time itself, if it ever catches him.
Maybe it’s you, reading this, asking if you’re ready to love someone without saving them.
Maybe it’s the truth that breaks your heart so that the love may finally spill out of it.
Final Journal Prompts
- Where in life would you benefit from allowing yourself to be seduced by Peter into your next meaningful initiation?
- Where is life asking you to a bit more of a brave, wise Wendy?
- Where are you getting “hooked” in adulthood? How does this get in the way of being a good captain?
- Where are you seeing uninitiated people around you and assuming the responsibility for sewing their shadow back on, rather than letting them figure it out?
- Peter doesn’t need saving. He needs to be iniated too. He probably needs a husband like Whatshisface. How can you be a bit more of a Whatshisface—so that the world can have more of your inner Peter’s magic?
P.S. In this Monday’s free online workshop, we’ll be exploring step 1: Bringing awareness to some of our shadow in a fun, accessible way.