Struggling with the yin/yang of this moment

Every morning as I peruse the news I feel like I'm on an emotional roller coaster. I feel the rage/grief as I read headlines like "Immigrant whose skull was broken in 8 places during ICE arrest says beating was unprovoked." On the other hand, I feel hope/pride as I read ones like "Nearly 30,000 Minnesotans trained as constitutional observers."

I suspect that's precisely why these lines from the Charles Dickens book, "A Tale of Two Cities" are so often quoted.

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...

Dickens captured something important that flies in the face of much that we believe about the world. It is in moments of darkness that light shines its brightest. 

All of that is why today, I'm thinking a lot about the ancient taoist idea of Yin/Yang.  

Don't ask me what I mean by all of that because honestly, I don't know. It just seems like a truism we're living out on a daily basis right now. I suspect it's has something to do with embracing the fact that we're intensely experiencing both the dark/light and not getting caught up in denying either one. 

Or maybe it's about something that showed up on my Facebook feed a few days before the winter solstice.

This is how I see humanity most days. Right when it feels like everything is tightening. When empathy gets quieter, patience runs thin, and it seems easier for people to choose outrage over understanding. When it feels like we’re losing more ground than we’re gaining.

But that’s the trick of the season. The darkest stretch convinces you this is how it will stay.

We’re three days from gaining daylight again. Not because anyone fixed everything overnight, but because cycles still exist. Because even after all our noise, the planet keeps reminding us that contraction is not the end of the story.

The light doesn’t rush back. It returns slowly. A minute here. A breath there. And somehow, that’s enough to change the direction of everything.

Maybe humanity is there too. Not healed. Not solved. Just quietly turning back toward something better, whether we notice it yet or not.

One thing I DO know is that this is still my favorite Bruce Springsteen performance.