Two Sides: Same Coin
A friend in my inner circle uses the phrase, "Only good can come of this," as a mantra. What a great tool to frame, and thus neutralize, all the petty annoyances and tiny disappointments that life cooks up. Practicing this principle means that I can run a client's cancellation through my spiritual filter and view that hour as an opportunity for prayer and meditation rather than loss of income. If a sale falls through, I can tell myself that God has something better in mind. When a friend bitterly disappoints, I can love him anyway. But what about the big events? What about death, sudden death, with its gut-wrenching finality, attendant grief, and unanswered questions?
Not long ago, my spiritual belief system was rocked. Having just emerged from a peaceful, late-night, rejuvenating meditation at an annual women’s conference in Vermont, my dear friend and traveling companion received word, via a heart-wrenching phone call, that her 20-year-old son had been killed in an automobile accident. Intuitively, every woman present gathered around our mournful sister and prayed. However, when I review my state-of-mind in the minutes and hours immediately following the tragedy, I don't see a spiritual warrior. While I bowed my head alongside my sisters, my mind buzzed, self-will shot into high gear, and I grew impatient with prayer. My psyche side-stepped God and began the feverous preparations to pack up, check out of our hotel, and begin the arduous, four-hour long drive back to Rhode Island. Fear had me in its hold. In the weeks that followed, faith took a backseat while I orchestrated ways to protect my own children from the ravages of highway driving, drinking, drugging.
How then, in the face of incomprehensible tragedy, can I possibly extract a silver lining, a spiritual lesson from the pain? How does good come from tortured sorrow? I have come to understand that expecting good to come does not mean that the opposite qualities--bad, dark, grievous--don't walk side-by-side. Metaphorically speaking, there are two sides to every coin, thus there is duality. For without the darkness, how can we experience the dawn?
I love your line, “without darkness how can we experience the dawn”. I was just reflecting earlier this morning about how dark my own life has been amongst my years of mental rehab, being all alone with family hours away. I am in the past year reflecting that without those tough, tough, isolated years in my life, I would not appreciate the simplicity that life can offer. It is the little things that matter. Especially during the Christmas season. I am tempted not to go to my in-laws Christmas because to them, the grandeur the present the better. For me, I am the exact opposite. I will spend hours looking for a meaningful $10 gift. Not the high sticker purchase that on Christmas Eve the family debates what they will exchange and the jealously they get from each other’s gifts. If I had not experienced my mental hardships, I might be as money oriented as they are. I only want peace of mind, and pray and hope that I can substain it. Without experiencing years of demons, I would be a different person. This year I feel the light of life. It had been dark, and depressed for too many years.