Both Are Right, Yo-yo!

Mindfulness myth #10: dualities

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Gosh is enlightenment handier nowadays than ever in mankind’s history!

That was sarcastic. Sorry. I’ll rephrase:

Our chances to learn from experience are very good these days, with the access to knowledge and the (often unwilling) exposure to internet advice.

One of the problems, though, is the duality this advice entails. Or seems to, by being presented in a bite-sized (read: chopped up) form.

Listen to your heart, they say (I wrote about it here). As if rational thinking was yuck.

You got to let go, they teach us (I wrote about it here). As if reflecting on what went wrong was harmful.

Detach yourself from your emotions, goes a terribly abridged and misunderstood tenet (and yes, I wrote about it, too.) As if acknowledging and connecting with what you feel was doomed to be misleading.

One thing that I have learnt, after reflecting on the learnings themselves, is that we learn by trial and error. Our mind is wired in dualities: 0 or 1, on or off, left or right.

Very much like fumbling in a tunnel, banging against the wall on one side, correcting our course to head the other way, but then hitting the wall opposite.

When we identify a mistake we’ve made, we tend to go the other way.

(That, even, is progress: we’ve identified what doesn’t work. Many people don’t. Or won’t acknowledge it. Or won’t act to change course.)

No worries, I’m not shaming anyone. I’ve done the same: hitting a wall, then heading in the opposite direction, thinking, if that was wrong, its opposite must be right.

It turned out, years and experiences later, the opposite wasn’t right either. And the first direction hadn’t been entirely wrong, actually.

I left Romania in the early 90s looking back in anger: I’m not Romanian, I’m bailing out! Went to Germany instead, which wasn’t a choice itself, it just happened to be the best place to emigrate to. Romania wasn’t my home.

In Germany, I got angry with the Germans, their way of life, their temperament, their bureaucracy, their not letting me stay in their decadent bourgeois paradise. Romania, sweet home! I went back.

I started out in life being terrified of saying no. I thought I needed a reason if I was to freeze the film and say sorry, that won’t do. Not just a reason; it took effort and guts to go against the grain and stop someone doing or treating me in a way I didn’t want.

I soon learnt that could get harmful. So I started saying no. I did that very often. Most of the time. I got to be the major grumbler. The grumpy spectator in the Muppets show. Nothing was right, at least from my purist standpoint.

Going even deeper:

I was young and, like all young people, took my youth for who I was. I was a young adult version of Peter Pan frozen in time.

Now, decades later, I turn off the light sometimes to go to sleep feeling so old. Almost terrified that I’m no longer me. Where’s Zoe? I want her back! What they all kept saying happens to everyone, has hit me in the end too.  

So, you probably get the point: we’re a bit like yo-yo’s. If we’re smart enough, we learn that we’re wrong running east. We then turn around and head off west.

If we’re smarter than smart, we soon realise west is not entirely right either.

Some may plunge deep into despair at this point. Blaming the universe, sinking into self-pity, or pursing lips and shrugging in bitter resignation.

The smartest of us – let me rephrase: those of us who keep reflecting past the most painful revelations realise that there’s no east or west that does it.

Both are right. But not by themselves. Joined up.

Let me tell you how I see it in my imagination:

If I’m to go through this tunnel and come out safe and well at the other side, I need to watch my step.

Use your right leg! people shout while hopping past.

Your right side is connected with the rational side of your brain! Your right leg is best for planning your steps and your direction!

I must use my right leg. The right leg is best for challenging trails, such as this one. It’s connected to the systematic side of my brain, that’s why it’s more dexterous. It’ll help me tread with a steady step. There you go. Hop and step. Steady. Good hold. Way to go!

My right foot keeps landing steady, no wobbling. I can count on it and already see the other end of the tunnel get closer. Hop and step and hop and step. It’s going really nicely.

The hopping feels light. So light that my body is getting used to the pace. I could go quicker and quicker. I must not lose sight of the final destination, there’s still a lot to cover!

Others are hopping past:

Your right leg will take you the whole way!

Forget about your right leg, folks! The left leg is the ultimate trick!

Now I’m picking up speed, whoa! Here I come, watch me! Hop, hop, hop, my body’s bending forward with intent, bent on speed and getting there sooner.

Gosh am I leaping now, my body weight bent forward is pushing me to hop faster and faster, where am I going, I can’t hold it much longer, I’m tripping, help!

Thud.

I’ve hit the wall on the left side. It’s wet and slippery. Won’t be much help leaning on it on the way forward.

So it’s not working. I must have been wrong.

Voices echo in the tunnel, steps and hops scratch against the gravel:

The right leg carries your strategic self. Plan your steps carefully!

Everything you’ve been told about the right leg is wrong! Your left leg means awareness.

Let imagination lend wings to your foot. Your left foot unlocks your secret powers.

Yes, now I see where I was wrong. The right foot – rubbish! Being all strategic and confident, effective and dexterous. Easy landing. Nonsense! Look where it got me. Tripping over and hitting the wall.

I’ll take the left leg. Too much strategic planning got hold of me and I lost awareness. I lost touch with who I am, with my mind’s eye guiding me through the dark.

The left leg will take me out of the tunnel.

Get up. Easy. Set the left foot down, carefully. Lift the right leg.

Already feels better. The right leg is all strained, and now it’s dismissed from carrying any weight. The left leg, on the other hand, is ready to go and is thankful for any stretch. I held it up for too long.

So. Hop and – step. Careful. Easy does it. The landing’s a bit flaky, but that’s actually good. It makes me pay more attention. This’ll keep things under control, and won’t have me tripping and falling headlong.

Hop and – step. Steady. Awareness takes planning on a different level. I’m not giving so much thought to the end of the tunnel now, but to each hop and step, one at a time. That’s what makes the landing steady. Precisely because if I don’t take care, it’s a bit wobbly.

Hop, and – huh, that’s quite a bit of work for sure. Not easy.

Step, stabilise the wobbling, and – hop! And step again, focus! Be aware. I can hold still for a second. Pull new strength. It was easier with the right foot, it did most of the stabilisation by itself.

The right leg is now a bit tense. Is that a cramp coming on? I’m slower now, so I’m taking longer to cover the distance. And the legs are – oh my gosh, the left leg’s all but shivering with the strain. Standing still is worse than hopping and landing, so (grunt) hop!

Ouch!

The gravel’s poking my ribs. Is that blood in my mouth? F…ck! And my right shoulder’s crushed against – what is it? It must be the wall on the right. This one’s rough and brittle, tiny pebbles all over my sleeves and on my trousers.

Brushing pebbles off my elbows and my knees. Need to find a way and get up again.

Maybe it wasn’t all wrong about using the right leg.

Although being deliberate about each step was also helpful. Kept things under control. Until I breathed out the last of my strength, that is.

I’m not sure –

The left leg unlocks your secret powers, folks!

There’s nothing like the right leg when it’s about challenging paths!

– not sure, but I think I’m gonna try something quite new. What if I use the right leg for its strength and dexterity, but stay focused on each step as I did with the left foot?

And what if – I wonder, would it work? – what if I used both legs in the process?

Put the right foot ahead, easy, slowly, watching it, there you go! And now I can get the left foot brushing past and carefully put it down. So far so good.

If that’s going to work, I won’t need to do any hopping. Walking, just one step at a time, saves my breath. And it’s easier to keep the steer.

Steer safe of the wall on the right, brittle and rough, and the wet, slippery wall on the left.

“Hey guys! You know the ultimate trick?” Breathe in, set foot down, there you go.

“They tell you to keep on the right foot? On the left foot?”

Keep it steady.

“Forget it. Right doesn’t work, but left doesn’t either. Not on their own.

“Use your right foot for what it’s good, and the left one for what it can do.”

They keep hopping past, some on their left foot, others on their right one. Right, left, right, wrong.

I’ll do my thing instead: both sides are right.

So here I am.

I went back to Germany many years later. And I feel at home here. But I don’t hate Romania anymore. Romania is still, another kind of, home.

I keep saying no when I need to – and that happens pretty often. But I left my grumpy spectator seat and try to pitch my no up or down as the situation requires. Sometimes I smile, other times I smile and say go to hell all the same.

My young self and my old self?

My first boss said once, when a few smart chicks of us were chuckling about elderly ladies concerns:

“Go ahead, laugh, but we were like you, and you will get to be like us!”

I’m on the right (or left?) track to getting this: both Zoe’s are real.