I just got off the phone with a friend, and our call completely shifted my mood.
I’ve been feeling, well…distraught. The senseless loss of life, homes destroyed, the environmental devastation, the cruelty our country is raining on a foreign land. It's been weighing on my heart.
But distress has a way of narrowing your thinking until you can't see straight (is it really my fault we're doing this?), and honestly, what can I do to change what's happening?
The truth I kept bumping up against: I can't change what's happening out there. And sitting with that is its own kind of grief.
Then came the phone call.
My friend told me she'd had the most amazing dream about a white rabbit.
The rabbit was telling her all kinds of wonderful things. She couldn't remember a word of it once she woke up, but she was certain it was still working some kind of magic from within, doing its thing in her subconscious.
I laughed out loud. And felt some of the heaviness leave.
[Substack break: That little white rabbit reminded me of something I keep needing to relearn, and you might need it too right now.]
Because here's what struck me: even in the middle of terrible things, magic appears. And we are deep, complex human beings. Life is never simply black or white, except, of course, in the case of the White Rabbit!
Nature gets this.
Think of a landscape that has moved you: a forest, the ocean, mountains at dusk. Nature holds growth and decay at the same time, new shoots pushing up through rotting wood, light moving through shadow. None of it is only one thing. And somehow, all of it together creates something beautiful.
Your inner world works the same way. When you're overwhelmed, your focus narrows. That’s your body doing its job of keeping you safe.
But when everything locks onto one thing, you lose sight of the whole landscape. The peace that lives inside you gets crowded out. Not because it left, but because there's no room.
With a little awareness, you can make your inner landscape spacious enough to hold opposing feelings at once. The grief and the wonder, the helplessness and the steadiness, both are true. Both are yours.
Here’s a 3-minute Tiny but Mighty Practice to help you widen your inner landscape:
Step outdoors and give yourself permission to settle. Feel the air on your skin, listen to the sounds around you, and let your gaze go soft.
Now glance around the whole landscape, growing things and fading things, light and shadow. Let it all belong.
Place a hand on your heart and ask: What else is also true for me right now? See what comes to you, no judgments, no editing, just what arrives.
You are larger than what is troubling you. The white rabbit said so.
And when you are in that spacious place, true wisdom arises.
Nature's Teaching: Both/And
Nature never picks a single story… it holds opposites at once.
Nothing is ever black and white in Nature. Nature loves the gray zone. It holds conflicting things and allows them to exist at the same time. That’s the beauty of Nature.
Imagine these in your mind:
A forest floor: It’s springtime; a time of transition. Winter’s dead and rotting remnants are left on the forest floor to help fertilize the soil. We see new ferns or bright green shoots pushing through the damp and rotting leaves that remained through winter.
We have the smell of earth and soft decay under fresh new spring growth. In a place that shouldn’t support life, a place that died from the cold, winter snowfalls, grows new life. The forest floor holds life and death. It holds opposites.
Mountains at dusk: Sunset brings a wonderful, bright orange glow. The mountains hold lots of caves and crevices full of shadows. But at dusk, light and shadow move across the same ridge as the sun sets in all of its brilliance.
One slop lit gold, the other already in blue shadow. Shadows hold the darkness and secrets, while the sun puts everything on display. The same mountain can be bathed in sunlight in one instance and then shrouded in darkness in the next. The same mountain can house both the light and the dark.
The ocean: At one moment, we can see and experience a beautiful, calm surface, with a gentle swell on top, while in the next moment, it can turn into a treacherous storm-filled death trap. One moment it’s full of bliss, joy, and beauty, and the next it’s full of rage and destruction.
The same ocean holds both experiences. Both calm and chaos coexist. Mixing and mingling. Opposites that play together.
Beauty is not the absence of decay, loss, or shadow; it’s the coexistence. Sometimes working together as partners, other times creating a push and pull. Both serving a purpose.
Just as we often see both grief and wonder, helplessness and steadiness, living side by side in us. We need grief in order to have love; we need to experience sadness in order to experience true happiness; we need a little chaos in order to know the importance of true calm.
This is how your inner landscape works. You need to be able to create spaciousness for the world's opposites to coexist within your soul. You’ll never truly live until you embrace both the light and the dark the same way Nature does.
A Small Ritual for Spaciousness
When the news narrows everything to a tight knot, try this. It isn’t meant to fix anything, only to make a little more room inside.
Take a step outside or stand by a window if you need. Begin to feel your feet on the ground. Tune in to the sensation of your feet on the ground. Then, place one hand on your heart and the other on your belly, and take one long, beautiful breath, feeling your hand on your belly expand.
Once you are focused inward, start by naming one thing that is breaking your heart right now. You can either say it out loud or quietly to yourself, just the simple truth of it. There is no right or wrong answer here. It can be something simple or something profound. If you’re nervous, you can start with something small and personal.
Next, name one thing that is beautiful in this exact moment: the light on the leaves, the sound of a bird, the warmth of your own breath. It doesn’t have to be anything big. Tune into what’s around you. What do you hear? What can you see? What do you smell? Pick one thing that makes your heart feel something.
Hold both truths together, without trying to resolve them. Breathe in slowly, breathe out even slower, for three breaths while allowing both the heartbreak and the beauty to exist in the same space. Let the inhale create a little space between the grief and the wonder; let the exhale let them sit side by side. There is room for both. You just have to expand your own capacity.
When you’re ready, lower your hands. Notice if there’s even a fraction more room inside.
That’s enough.
Reflection Questions:
Have you ever been stuck between two things, struggling to both be seen? Did you find yourself wondering if both could be true at the same time? What did you decide was right?
What is the most intriguing opposite you have witnessed in nature? What made it so fascinating?
How can you take this opposites lesson into your regular life?