Reflection - A tale of two selves Posted By: SHAWN K JOHNSON Date: 6/11/2014 9:13:06 AM “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness. It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity. It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness. It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair. We had everything before us, we had nothing before us. We were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period…” Although the above quote from Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities was written about London and Paris during the time of the French Revolution (1789-1799), it is about the way things have always been. Every age is a tale of contradictions; in looking closely we can see in our own time the conflicts – socially, politically and religiously – that Dickens’ work portrayed. If we look closely enough at ourselves we might also recognize that similar contradictions are within us. We are often a tale of two selves; strong and weak, knowledgeable and ignorant, courageous and cowardly, magnanimous and petty, etc. These are the strange bedfellows that exist at the heart of humanity. It is tempting to resolve this tension, to rid ourselves of foolishness, doubt, darkness, despair, and the like, but even if it were possible it may not be best to do so. One of the wisest stories I learned while growing up is “The Parable of the Weeds and the Wheat”. It tells of a worker who reports to a landowner that there are weeds in his wheat field. He then asks whether the owner wants him to pull out the weeds, to which the man answers “no,” because to do so would mean that the wheat would be uprooted as well. When we attempt to uproot the weed-like qualities of our character we run the risk of doing more harm than good. We may be a tale of two selves, but they are related – the roots of our virtues and vices are intertwined – a reality that challenges us to be gentle and patient with our faults. Better to be humbled by our imperfection than proud that we have overcome it. Better to embody the compassion that can come from honestly and gently acknowledging our contradictions than to become critical of them in others. Poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow knew that looking closely and compassionately at ourselves could result in empathy for others, for it was he who wrote: “If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.”
Posted on: Thu, 12 Jun 2014 23:48:21 +0000
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