I sat at the kitchen table yesterday afternoon drinking tea and watching my children play in our back yard (“yard” is optimistic – suffice it to say we live in a very urban area). Still, I’m always delighted when they entertain themselves with little fuss or stimulation, and they did.
For some reason I was randomly poking through my archives and found a post that I wish I had written today. Maybe because I am entering a period of ambiguity and am aching for peace. Maybe because the friend I mention had another scare about her daughter this week, and still in the midst of that found time to be generous and thoughtful towards me. Maybe because, despite the sunshine, it’s been a fairly gray weekend. I don’t know. Apologies for the retread, but this speaks to how I’m feeling and I wanted to repost it.
Holding Ambiguity and Emanating Peace
The membrane between me and the world is very porous.
Certain people have unfettered access to me; I take their input and criticism as truth. It is like having a central line into my chest. Which is good as long as the input is well-intentioned, even if negative.
I celebrate compassion. I believe kindness is the most important thing. That life is not black and white. That there are many grays. That what matters is doing the best you can. And I believe that most people are genuinely doing their best.
I think that relationships are art, not science. It is a fallacy – a comforting, seductive one – that there are clear rights and wrongs. That there are rules. There aren’t. There is instinct, there is fuzziness, there is lack of clarity. This is uncomfortable. You have to let go and trust. In fact, to force human relationships into a rigid framework of binary 1s and 0s is to miss out on some of their most exquisite, moving nuances. It is in the spaces between that the real love exists.
Life is endlessly long and it is heartbreakingly short. We are all flawed and wounded, we all limp. None of us dances without stumbling. But none of us needs others to tell us we are broken. We aren’t. There is a fine line between wanting to help each other be better people and being downright destructive. There is much good in every single person, so much to celebrate. None of us is more important or more worthy than anyone else. Nobody. This I believe as firmly as I believe anything.
People are amazing. There is more in each of us than we know. Last weekend I watched a dear friend practicing her passion. She had taken a risk, walked away from a safe professional harbor, and she is also enduring significant pain and fear in her family. Handling – with such grace – something most of us can barely imagine. And there she was. Laughing and smiling and creating beauty in the world. She is amazing. People like her make me realize I need to be a better me.
We must learn to hold ambiguity in our hands and still, somehow, emanate peace. We need to accept the terrifying uncertainty of it all. Maybe, actually, embracing that uncertainty is the only road to true freedom. It could all end tomorrow. This moment – and only this moment – is life. What are we all waiting for?