Playing by the Rules of Both/And

What Bali taught me about holding opposites together 

Here we are in early September.

It’s still warm, unusually warm where I live, but it’s not exactly summer anymore. And despite all the Halloween candy and decorations already appearing in stores, it’s not really fall, either.

So it can feel a little strange.

Where are we? What season is it, anyway?

You can think of it as the both/and. We’re somewhere in between, in a process. Things are changing, and we haven’t arrived anywhere yet.

It’s not one thing or another.

Of course, that’s how life is all the time, too. But you may find that you’re more in touch with it at this particular time of year.

And it can be uncomfortable.

A lesson from Bali

As I was reflecting on this while also navigating the tropically high temperatures and humidity, I remembered something I learned on a trip to Bali about 13 years ago.

My friend and I stayed in Ubud for a week, and as we visited different sites, I kept seeing a black-and-white checkered fabric, sometimes with red, too. I saw it wrapped around statues and sometimes around the trunks of large trees.

I couldn’t help but wonder what it meant.

A few days into our trip, we signed up for a Balinese cooking class. As we walked toward the outdoor kitchen, I saw a statue wrapped in the same fabric. Then we were each given an ingredient to chop, a knife, and an apron made from the black-and-white fabric.

More clues!

But what did they mean?

After we finished cooking and eating lunch, I asked the teacher if the fabric had a specific meaning.

He said that it provides a kind of spiritual protection, and that it also symbolizes the universal principle that opposites coexist, similar to yin and yang.

There’s no light without dark.

No joy without sorrow.

No day without night.

Right.

Both/and.

The fabric itself was a kind of wordless teaching that we contain multitudes and that there is a sacredness in the both/and. That being alive, being whole, and in a sense being holy, is so much fuller and richer than good or bad.

There is a cosmic balance.

What if we didn't have to choose?

So often, we get a message that holy things are separate from what’s not holy.

But this black-and-white fabric was a simple, everyday reminder that good is not separate from bad.

It was profound to see that fabric everywhere and to understand what it meant in this culture.

I look for the both/and spirit in everyday life, and it is a real help.

How about you?

What if, the next time something goes “wrong,” or differently from what you expect, you consider that it’s part of a bigger picture?

The inner critic will probably try to convince you that you failed again and that it’s all your fault.

But you don’t have to buy into it.

Maybe you can remember the sacredness of opposites, and that even if you did get it “wrong,” even wrong is holy.

It’s not separate from right.

You don’t have to play by the inner critic’s rules.

You can play by the rules of both/and.

Making room for both/and

The idea that opposites coexist is a key part of what I teach in all of my classes.

It’s an invitation to make room for all the different things that can be true at the same time.

You can be struggling and still be okay.

You can feel uncertain and still have something steady to hold onto.

You can make a mistake and still be worthy of kindness.

You can be changing without knowing exactly where you’re going.

Maybe that’s part of the gift of this time of year.

We don’t have to force ourselves to decide what something is or isn't.

We can let ourselves be in the middle.

We can make room for both.

A little practice

The next time you notice yourself thinking in very definite terms, like good or bad, right or wrong, or success or failure, pause for a moment.

Ask yourself:

What else might also be true?

You don't have to solve anything.

Just see what happens when you make a little more room.

Both/and. ❤️