You can recognize a deep truth by the feature that its opposite is also a deep truth*
I’m spending hours in the garden – planting, weeding, chatting with the trees and birds.
Our house is slowly turning into one giant nesting box – robins in the garage and under the eaves by the bathroom window, swallows in the alcove by the door, a dove in the gutter, over the downspout. There’s a deep feeling of contentment in this for me – having had trouble feeling settled here, despite the ‘perfectness’ and ‘dream-come-trueness’ of this patch. I made a vow of stewardship, unsure if it was welcome, but now – finally – I feel as if our tenancy here has been recognized by the land. Which is the only recognition that truly matters.
I leave offerings in the form of the beginnings of an edible hedge – Nannyberry, yew, highbush cranberry – with some lilac and witch hazel thrown in for good measure.
Slowly, slowly – pausing to listen, then standing back and letting go.
And I think that’s the essence of complementarity. You have to view the world in different ways to do it justice, and the different ways can each be very rich, can each be internally consistent, can each have its own language and rules, but they may be mutually incompatible, and to do full justice to reality, you have to take both of them into account.*
We had to re-home our rooster – he was horribly aggressive and only getting more so. It was only after he was gone that we realized how much more peaceful and settled the energy had become in his absence — even the hens seem more calm now. It’s true, he was only doing his job, but….
…funny that, how we can simply ‘get used’ to unpleasant, even hostile, energy. It makes me wonder what else I’ve let myself ‘get used to’, just because I feel that I ought to, because it’s Generally Accepted or How Things Are.
Just because something is right in itself, doesn’t mean it’s necessarily right for me.
Which is sort of how I’ve come to feel about the internet – it can be lovely and perfect in itself – but so too, is my beloved analogue world. The two of them are deep but opposite truths. They don’t – can’t – exist comfortably and simultaneously for me and it’s foolish of me to insist on either/or.
They just are.
Some days I’m here. Most days I’m there.
There’s beauty and nourishment to be found in both places.
*quotes from Dr. Frank Wilczek, On Being podcast “Why Is the World So Beautiful”