The power of “and”: Being mindful of life’s duality

Explore the power of “and” for understanding the paradoxes of life. Being mindful of life’s duality brings balance and meaning to the journey.

It’s important to be mindful of the fact life is full of positive and negative forces. At any given moment, it’s easy to be myopic, losing the forest for the trees. When you feel bad, everything is bad. When you feel good, everything is good. When in fact, it’s necessary to recognize the simultaneous nature of both forces. There is always good AND bad, push AND pull, yes AND no, acceptance AND change. In this way, the word “and” is a powerful tool for being mindful of life’s duality.

The power of “and”: A visual metaphor

Life provides many lessons in recognizing duality. To deny the positive or the negative is to deny half the experience. To focus on only the positive requires a denial or blindness to complexity. Likewise, to focus on only the negative is to miss the opportunity and beauty in life. A friend once eloquently pointed out to me that it’s ok to experience both grief and gratitude in a given situation. Our conversation took place during a horribly painful time in my life – my pregnancy with my third son.

When I was 16-weeks pregnant, I suffered a hemorrhage that caused my water to break. It had already been a rough pregnancy. We were living in Baltimore for the final year of my husband, Andrew’s medical training. My boys were two and one. Initiating sequence. Andrew was working an exhausting schedule. Beginning countdown. We were living thousands of miles from our friends and family. Past the point of no return. We were (pleasantly) surprised by a third pregnancy. Nuclear meltdown!

Periodic bleeding revealed a pregnancy complication that only got worse. One afternoon, as I was helping my oldest son, Rocco, out of his car seat, I hemorrhaged. It was so bad my grey pants instantly soaked through, turning maroon. My sandals pooled with blood as I rushed Rocco back into the car. They squished and bubbled as I maneuvered myself back into the driver’s seat.

I had bled several times beforehand, but I knew this time was different. As I rode in the back of an ambulance to the hospital, I thought I was going to die. I assumed my baby was already gone. Crushed and hopeless couldn’t adequately describe how we felt as the doctors advised us to terminate. We were dumbfounded.

Thankfully, Andrew argued we needed to take time before making any decisions. We drove home stunned and heartbroken. Ultimately, we chose to let the pregnancy progress. I felt it was better for the baby and my body to make the decision for me. I didn’t want to live with that burden. This required modified bedrest, an impossible feat with a baby, toddler, and husband in medical training.

It was a blessing when both our moms flew out to Baltimore the next day. They were troopers, sharing a basement futon, and taking over all my responsibilities. Eventually, Victor was born at 25-weeks and spent six months in the Newborn Intensive Care Unit before coming home on oxygen. Today, he is a healthy, vibrant, willful five-year-old.

However, while pregnant on bedrest I didn’t know what was going to happen at any given moment. As Victor’s (and therefore my) story unfolded, I was filled with a complex set of emotions. One day, I complained to my mom about some of my difficulties and frustrations. In an attempt to help me focus on the positive, she immediately responded with, “But think of how lucky you are.” I felt worse.

My mom was coming from the right place. She wanted me to remain positive because it was necessary for survival. She was doing what I’ve done a million times – responding to a child’s complaint with a reminder to be grateful. I needed to remember my blessings, for sure. AND I needed to have space to mourn, be angry, and acknowledge the injustice of my situation.

That’s when I reached out to my dear friend, whom I’ve known for over twenty years. Carol Test is an amazing writer, editor, and teacher of creative writing. As such, she’s eloquent and knew exactly how to respond to me. You see, she’s also a cancer survivor. I knew she would relate to my complex emotions, at least on some level. She knew what it was like to feel both lucky to survive and pissed to have to fight for it. After surviving cancer, people reminded her to count her blessings. And they were right. But, it didn’t mean she couldn’t also be crushed by it. It still fucking sucked to be diagnosed with cancer in the first place.

I didn’t have to explain the complexity of my situation to her. Carol understood and provided a metaphor I still think of often. She visualized herself walking a path with both hands full. In one hand, she carried all her gratitude, relief, and positive emotions. In her other hand, she carried all her grief, anger, and negative emotions. She told me it was perfectly acceptable to honor BOTH. I needed to hear that and practice it. I used this visual frequently.

Often, I remind myself of Carol’s metaphor. I picture myself walking the path, acknowledging and honoring two competing forces. It reminds me we can have it both ways. Frankly, we don’t really have a choice. Life is a delicate dance between seemingly contradictory emotions and thoughts. There can be grief and gratitude, loss and learning, challenges and opportunities. As Carol said, “life is light and dark, blessing and loss.” As such, we must give ourselves the time and space to experience both sides, honoring the duality of life.

The power of “and”: Lessons in therapy

As I’ve mentioned before, I go to therapy. I think everyone can benefit from it. When I’m struggling or being particularly hard on myself, my therapist often responds with “yes, and…” It’s a simple phrase but so powerful. It simultaneously validates what I’m saying while opening me up to the whole picture. In this regard, she is helping me acknowledge the dual forces inherent in life.

I started seeing my current therapist maybe six months after my dad died. Life had already been an exhausting struggle with Victor’s birth and the many associated challenges. Not to mention the long, arduous preceding years spent earning a Ph.D. while my husband earned his medical degree, and we bounced around the country for his training. After my dad’s ten-hour brain surgery and month-long ICU stay, he passed in a way that was both slow and sudden. I floundered for months and started seeing her when I realized I was in a deep hole. I saw her for a while and then it tapered off until my anxiety flared and once again became unmanageable on my own.

In our sessions, I’ve noticed a tactic my therapist uses frequently. She strategically uses the word “and” when I’m struggling. Usually, this involves moments in which I lack self-compassion. When I say something negative, she often responds with, “Yes, and…” Often, she completes the sentence. Sometimes I do. This reminds me to look at the whole picture.

For example, we’ve had many conversations about “mommy guilt.” I feel overwhelmed by the demands of being a good mother. I can’t give any more and yet it feels like it’s just not enough. When I say, “I yell so much.” She responds with, “Yes, and you are doing the best you can. You love your kids, and they know that. You are taking the steps to learn. You are human.” She doesn’t allow me to forget there are always two forces at work.

Responding with “yes, and” is the literal version of Carol’s visual metaphor. It allows for both a positive and a negative, a simultaneous expression of the desire to improve and the acceptance of where I’m at. Starting with “yes” validates my feelings and the truth in my statement. It’s a bow to being a complex human. It’s a hug. Following up with “and” forces me to acknowledge all the truths in a given situation. It’s a nod to the bigger picture. It’s a gentle push. As I work on being present in the moment, I am becoming more mindful of this necessary duality in life.

The power of “and”: Balanced self-compassion

In my own mindfulness journey a similar duality keeps surfacing – both wanting more for myself and needing to accept myself. It’s somewhat confusing. Mark Manson tweeted about this yesterday, referring to it as a paradox. At first blush, it seems both forces can’t exist, but they do. After giving this a lot of thought in recent months, I’m becoming more certain both forces MUST co-exist. The way to accomplish this is through balanced self-compassion.

My Commitment to Calm gave me the framework to work on my mental and physical health. Mindfulness is teaching me to accept the moment and be present for it without trying to change it. And yet, as I become more mindful, I’m realizing how much I need to change my thoughts, particularly my level of self-compassion. There’s a push and pull to the practice. How do I encourage myself to improve AND reassure myself that I am enough? It’s a dance between accepting (and appreciating) where I’m at and at the same time wanting more.

This back and forth between positive and negative sparked my research last week on perfectionism. The biggest revelation I had while reading the research was the crucial role of self-compassion. It balances perfectionistic strivings and provides the preventative tools to keep our desires from devolving into detrimental self-criticisms.

I’ve known for a while that self-compassion is a key missing component for me. As such, I’ve been working on it since January. (See here, here, here, and here.)Thus, I was elated to learn Tara Brach would be interviewing Kristin Neff, a thought leader on self-compassion. The interview was aired on April 27th as part of a virtual conference, the Radical Compassion Challenge. I watched the interview ready to learn more. It was amazing to hear two experts I so admire discuss the dual nature of self-compassion.

Neff wrote the book, literally, on self-compassion. I’m reading it right now. (Blog post coming soon!) It addresses the three areas of self-compassion: being kind over judgmental, maintaining perspective of your role in common humanity, and holding your thoughts with mindfulness. Her newest book, Fierce Self-Compassion, comes out in June. It delineates between a tender and fierce self-compassion. One provides support while the other motivates action.

According to Neff, there’s a balance between accepting our reality and allowing our emotions. Mindfulness is our acceptance of our experience in the present moment, good, bad, or indifferent. It is what it is. We must accept ourselves as we are, imperfections and all. Whereas, compassion is our acknowledgement that our feelings are ok. We can desire to change or alleviate our own suffering. We can believe “I must accept this, as is” AND “I want more for myself.”

Within self-compassion, there are also two forces. Neff uses the yin-yang analogy. Tender self-compassion is the yin. It says, “Everything is ok, you are human, love yourself as is.” Fierce self-compassion is the yang. It says, “We can change. We must create opportunities to evolve and get better. We can protect, provide for, and motivate ourselves.” Just as too much perfectionism can become toxic, too much fierceness can become aggressive. However, this doesn’t mean we simply roll over and accept everything as is. That would be complacency. The key is we must have both.

Similar to my experience with Victor, Carol’s with cancer, and conversations with my therapist, self-compassion is one more opportunity for us to honor the duality of life. Each of these examples remind me life is complex. Mindfulness is teaching me to not only get more comfortable with this duality, but to honor it. Harnessing the power of “and” does just that.

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