We live in a world of dualities—contrasts that coexist in harmony, thanks to the natural law of polarity.
Yes, we have darkness, and we have light.
Yes, we have day, and we have night.
Yes, we have sorrow, and we have joy.
Yes, we have storms, and we have calms.
Yes, we have rainforests, and we have deserts.
The dualities we observe in nature often feel straightforward. Night follows day; rain nourishes the earth after a drought. These cycles are predictable, grounding us in their rhythm and balance.
But dualities in human relationships are far more complicated. Unlike the steady patterns of nature, people can be unpredictable and messy. Navigating these human polarities is more challenging—yet profoundly rewarding.
The Dualities Within Us
Yes, we love them, and they cause us pain.
Yes, we admire them, and they disappoint us.
Yes, we rely on them, and they let us down.
These contradictions can feel disorienting. How can someone we care for deeply also hurt us? How can someone inspire us and frustrate us in equal measure? The answer lies in the messy, beautiful truth of humanity: no one is all good or all bad. We’re all a mixture of light and shadow, strength and vulnerability.
Navigating the Gray
To embrace these dualities requires a shift in mindset—from judgment to curiosity. It’s about resisting the urge to label someone as entirely one thing or another. It’s about creating space for mistakes and imperfections, for growth and redemption.
When we approach people with curiosity, we stop seeing them as “good” or “bad” and start seeing them as whole. We recognize the shades of gray that make up their humanity—and our own.
This doesn’t mean excusing harmful behavior or ignoring boundaries. But it does mean softening the lens through which we view others, allowing room for compassion, understanding, and forgiveness.
The “Yes, And” Perspective
And then we can see:
Yes, we love them, and they are human.
Yes, they disappoint us, and they are trying.
Yes, they fall short, and so do we.
But there’s another duality at play—their behavior and our reaction. Their actions may hurt or disappoint us, yet we have a choice in how we respond.
We can take responsibility for our reactions, owning the power to pause, reflect, and choose. Instead of reacting out of anger or frustration, we can ask: What is this teaching me? How can I respond in a way that aligns with my values, not my immediate emotions?
This doesn’t mean their actions don’t matter or that we don’t feel pain. It means recognizing the dual truth:
Yes, they are responsible for their behavior, and we are responsible for how we let it shape us.
Finding Peace in the Paradox
Living in a “yes, and” world doesn’t deny the hard truths; it expands our capacity to hold them alongside the beauty of connection. It helps us see that the same people who hurt us can also heal us. The same experiences that break us can also teach us.
When we embrace the dualities—including the interplay of their behavior and our reactions—we take back our power. We no longer feel trapped by what others do or don’t do. We find freedom in our ability to choose curiosity, compassion, and growth.
And in doing so, we don’t just tolerate the complexities of life—we celebrate them. We find peace in the paradox.
Timeless Wisdom
These are not new concepts. The tension of dualities—light and dark, love and pain—has been wrestled with for centuries. Parts of these ideas are beautifully captured in the Prayer of St. Francis. Attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, who lived in the 12th century, this prayer offers timeless wisdom for approaching life’s challenges with grace, humility, and intention. While it does not encompass all the complexities of human relationships or the power of choosing our reactions, it serves as a profound reminder of the beauty and possibility found in navigating life’s paradoxes:
The Prayer of St. Francis
Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is error, truth;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
The Prayer of St. Francis reminds us of the power of intention, compassion, and grace in navigating life’s dualities. Yet, as we reflect on its wisdom, we can also recognize the complexities it doesn’t address—the challenges of balancing love and disappointment, or the effort it takes to own our reactions in the face of others’ actions. These are the nuances of human relationships that require curiosity, self-awareness, and a willingness to grow. By embracing both timeless guidance and deeper self-reflection, we can chart a path toward greater peace and connection amidst life’s paradoxes.
Rumi, the 13th-century Persian poet, speaks to this beautifully in his own exploration of dualities. His words invite us to embrace the fullness of life—the light and the dark, the joy and the pain—as essential parts of our growth:
“Try not to resist the changes that come your way.
Instead, let life live through you.
And do not worry that your life is turning upside down.
How do you know that the side you are used to
is better than the one to come?”
Rumi reminds us that the dualities we face are not obstacles to be overcome but opportunities to deepen our understanding and resilience. When we let go of resistance and approach life with openness and curiosity, we allow space for transformation, even in the most challenging times.
The wisdom of these voices across centuries—the Prayer of St. Francis and Rumi’s poetry—offers us both comfort and challenge: comfort in knowing that the tension of dualities is universal and timeless, and challenge in stepping into these spaces with courage, grace, and intention. In doing so, we begin to see that light and darkness, love and pain, are not opposites but partners in shaping a richer, more meaningful life.
What dualities are you wrestling with today? How might you respond with love, light, and compassion?