We Contain Multitudes
By Ray Hennessy, courtesy of Unsplash.
“Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)”
One of the benefits of living in our modern world is the ease with which we can communicate with anyone, anywhere, instantly. When I was twenty, I spent five months in India—pre-email, pre-Internet being a thing, letters home took weeks to arrive and longer to be replied to, and phone calls home were $1.50 per minute.
I actually heard about email for the first time while there, and it blew me away. I now maintain friendships with people around the world, and we can exchange messages instantly at any time.
But one of the curses of living in our modern world is being exposed to everything that's happening in it, everywhere, all at once.
It's a weird rollercoaster, scrolling through a social media feed and being exposed to an engagement announcement, a funny sketch about parenting, a plea for help for a war-torn country, and a post about someone grieving a close family member in quick succession. The next post might be about a cool new book... or it might be someone marking themselves safe from yet another terrifying natural event. And that's not even counting the news, billboards, online ads, emails, or the landslide of other bids for our attention and emotions at any given moment.
On any given day (or hour!), our capacity to handle this unnatural firehose of information fluctuates too. That's why we can be deeply grateful for our blessings while also struggling with the irrational anxiety brought on by fluctuating hormones or stacked traumas. Or experience a moment of joy while reeling from a depth of grief we never thought possible. Or believe God is guiding me while weeping at how hard this life can be.
This balance, this giddy dance of the human experience, is what gives each day its own challenges and pleasures.
That being said, it's good and healthy to know when you need to withdraw, pull back, and heal for the sake of your spirit, mind, and soul.
Winter is often a time of hidden healing in preparation for spring's renewal. I feel it closing in around me, the desire to hunker in and hibernate like a warm hug pulling me close, even as I mourn the loss of colour and warmth and bounty outside my window.
But the landscape, like my spirit, is also resting and healing. So when the time for growth comes once again, it will spring forth in an explosion of life and diversity and colour, full of its own contradictions, beauties, and heartbreaks.
So the cycle continues. For all of creation is part of this wild and wonderful kaleidoscope journey. We contain multitudes.
Originally published in the Books & Inspiration Newsletter, 2024-10-29.
