And....

"The greater the contrast, the greater the potential. Great energy only comes from the correspondingly great tension of opposites." Carl Jung

Stepping outside in the summer mornings becomes a ritual for me.  I realize I belong here as much as the morning dew, the slugs on my raspberry canes, or the red squirrel scurrying about gathering seeds off of my miniature sunflowers.  I can join this community just as I am, bedraggled or serene from whatever transpired in a fitful or restful night's sleep.  I am welcomed here by the backyard choir of chirps and songs. Today we all recognize the effects of another morning without the backdrop of the sun illuminating our way.  As I move around the yard to gather a few berries for my morning oatmeal, water, and grass smoosh and swoosh between my toes. The simplicity of another day in this space registers delight in me.  Stepping outside for only a moment is a step from all the tension of that or this. The decisions, choices, or inevitable realities of how our days unfold,  are just a door opening away. Only on the other side of that door can our head create the hard.  Finding the way to hold the hard and the simplicity, my heart reminds me each day to just step outside.

I was gifted a new copy of Charlotte's Web recently to celebrate a special moment in my life.  This childhood favorite was the perfect reminder of the beauty in opposing forces. A story of opposites; grief, and joy, loss and connection, friendship and loneliness.  I could never help identifying with sweet Wilbur when Charlotte wrote "Some Pig" in her web above his pen at the county fair. Although the point of this was to gain the adoration of the fairgoers, the truest feeling for Wilbur was in what the efforts of his dear friend meant to him.  There was someone who would do the hard for him and he meant something to not everyone but to the someone that mattered most.  Maybe we have all felt this gratitude that Wilbur feels and at the same time we can also relate to the imposter syndrome he felt with not being what his good friend saw in him.  He held the tension of this extraordinary act and the ordinary of still being just who he was, a pig not wanting to become supper.  

The forward in this new copy of Charlotte's Web is written by Kate DiCamillo who was a mainstay in my primary classroom for many years and on my own bookshelves of stories read to and by my own grown children.  Kate mentions that she didn't end up reading this book as a young girl but read it for the first time at thirty-one years old and only then at the persuasion of her writing teacher who wanted her to experience the brilliance of E.B. White as an author.  She says that she had avoided the story because of what she had believed it to be about from the cover of the book.   A story that could not possibly end well.  A story about loss and grief.   Kate recognizes that her initial thoughts about the story are true but that it was also a story of joy and friendship. The tension of opposites was what made the story brilliant.  Joy and Grief, loss and friendship.  These opposites gave us feelings of devastating sadness and uplifting joyfulness simultaneously, much like most real living does.   Kate tells us that she would encourage that young girl who was avoiding the hard-to-read Charlotte's Web to pick up the book and read because in the end it turns out alright even though and in spite of the fact that it absolutely doesn't. 

There was a synchronicity to hearing Morgan Harper Nichols talk about holding the tension of opposites this week.  It had me contemplating the permission that the word "and", gives for us to do this difficult act.   Peace and noise, absent and present, abundant and scarce, backward and forward. Even as simple as good and bad, right and wrong. "And" is the permission to hold both without looking for a complete resolution.  After all, isn't this the way we move through grief while still being present in the wonder of life? Are there not moments of peace even in the noise? Do we not often feel like we are moving backward before we propel forward? Certainly, we have all experienced something both good and bad simultaneously? The term, bittersweet exemplifies this well. E.B. White acknowledges this well in the death of Charlotte and the birth of all of her sweet children.  Most of us continue to work on getting to a place where we are able to recognize the extraordinary in the ordinary or the good intention of wrongdoers, as well as the duality of right and wrong.   For every problem or conflict in which we are asked to take a side, make a decision between two things, debate or argue a point, or embrace something beautiful happening in the horrific,  we are also given permission with "and" to choose the third way that arises, as Morgan brought to light in her mention of Marion Woodman's theory.  Holding the tension of these opposites or opposing forces in the current realities and conflicts in our lives comes with the permission to allow for a breath, a pause, a moment to step away consciously,  to step outside of the polarities to reflect. It loosens the grip on our rigid or entrenched beliefs and holds us in our grief with hope.  "And" gives us room to find creative steps, ideas,  understanding, and compassion.  "And" feels like a relief to me even if it isn't the situation that changes but our thoughts about it, now or in time. When remembering "and", there can be a softening. 

 Carl Jung believed that our greatest problems were insoluble and could never be solved only outgrown. Maybe our earnestness to continue to solve them and make sense of where we land between the bittersweet brings personal growth which is the real change, one of perspective. As Brianna Wiest reflects, the moment changes only by how we meet it.  Perhaps "and" is the way we can join all of our polarities into this third way which is really about us as individuals noticing the contrasts, the shadows and light, and not trying for one or the other but making room within and around ourselves for both.  This compassion we offer, like my stepping outside, is not to avoid but to allow space, for a clearer view that includes the tension.  Then the urgency of knowing, choosing, or defining wanes. We can feel two things, we can witness opposing realities, two truths can coexist, life can be both kind and unkind, and books and people can be both happy and sad at the same time. 

In a world where problems will always exist, and hard will too, it is good to know that  "and"  can bring peace from the understanding that even without solutions, resolutions, grand acts of realization, or  exonerations from life's challenges, we can make a difference by actually being able to see and hold the realities. This clarity from acknowledging this in relationships with others allows us to embrace the difficult with more ease. Maybe Charlotte knew that  she didn't have the answers and all she could offer was doing the hard for and with Wilbur. Sitting with him and believing in him.   She knew we can only experience loss when we know love, and freedom when we feel restricted, and we can only own the title of some pig when we indeed know what it means to be our beloved ordinary selves.