It’s spring, and the gorgeous Kwanzan cherry trees are at peak bloom here in metro DC. While we’ve had a bit of rain this spring, we’ve also had some spectacularly clear blue skies. The fig tree is putting forth shoots, gifted lilies of the valley plants are finally showing buds this year, and while a beloved maple had to be cut down recently, there’s the possibility for sun-loving perennials now. It’s spring, and there is goodness and beauty abounding.
And yet, scattered among the moments of joy and delight, there are moments that my heart is heavy, really heavy. Recent weeks have brought us heartbreaking stories about mass shootings at an unreal pace. Conversations about “re-entry” into the world after more than a year of isolation and keeping distance, point to the heartbreaking psychological impact of the pandemic. Our political system is so divided that even with a culture change common to a new administration, the future of our democracy seems fragile. And this is just at home, there are also the global struggles.
What does one do with all of this? Sometimes it seems these moments of spring and Easter joy turn on a dime as I listen to or read the news, or listen to someone’s fears and stress of going out for what had been a routine activity.
There’s a phrase I’ve been hearing for some years now that seems to be picking up in popularity. Both/and. It’s used as a response to either/or thinking, It’s an alternative way of looking at things other than in “black or white” as the phrase goes. A paradox says opposites can both be true. Among Lutherans, everyone is both a saint and a sinner. At life’s high points, we can experience both joy and sorrow.
This spring is definitely a time of both/and. Vaccinations are on the rise and in some parts of the country, so are infections. President Biden has assembled a diverse cabinet with many firsts in cabinet positions, yet on the streets racism, sexism, and fear of immigrants and those who identify as LGBTQIA+, are alive and well. Friends are stressing over first times to stores, doctors, and hair salons, while some are planning travel and gatherings again.
I’m reminded of a conference theme from a couple of months ago…holding loosely. That seems to be about the right thing to do at this moment. Hold the joys loosely as they are gifts and many won’t last long. We’re expecting rain tomorrow and the cherry trees are already releasing light flurries of soft, pink petals. The trees won’t be so spectacular after the rain. Hold the heartaches loosely as well as they won’t last either, though some require much time and energy to be addressed. Despite progress in addressing racial issues, there is still deep seated systemic racism.
I try and hold all these things loosely, letting them take the forefront and the time in the center as is needed. I try and hold these things in my heart and prayers, heartbroken over injustices and delighted in the conversations of the birds. Hold the paradoxes of these days loosely, but hold the both/and…and then, let go…
How are you doing with the ups and downs of these days?
Both/And indeed….I wonder about the tipping point when both/and tilts into either/or. The Chauvin verdict is being received as both good news and as resentment. How long can truth balance both/and? And at what point does truth demand either/or? And more than that, can that transition happen without major upheaval? Henry
I think it is human nature to go either/or first and to be reluctant to embrace both/and. We like certainty, clear choices, and answers. Grey areas and uncertainty make us uncomfortable. Embracing what we understand to be complete opposites as being true at the same time is perplexing and even difficult. As a society we also have a tendency to veer towards the extremes. So while both/and thinking is finding a foothold in good ways, taken to the extreme, that kind of thinking would throw all either/or thinking out the window. We still need standards of right and wrong. As a police officer, protecting the life of those in the community is (should be) a priority…including those taken into custody. An officer doesn’t get to be the jury and judge of an unarmed and handcuffed person. A young adult bore witness to the last 10 minutes of George Floyd’s life so the rest of the world could also bear witness that an unarmed, black man in handcuffs was suffocated for almost 10 minutes by a white police officer while his peers looked on. Truth is sometimes both/and. And sometimes truth is either/or.