Another one of my images of the mandorla includes a ladder. This time, the ladder horizontally bridges the gap between the two circles of either and or. Usually, I find myself on this ladder when I am searching for just how big my relational yes can be. It is my both/and ladder.
Someone hurts me or does something that I do not like and I want to run to the outer rim of one circle, reach down, grip its edge and pull and tug until the almond shaped center of both/and is smaller.
And then I begin calculating. Depending on the level of pain, the act of closing the birthing place may be necessary to protect tender sacred places within. But I have to consider the likelihood of being stingier than I want to admit, withholding generosity from another.
Also, I have furiously run to the other extreme. Someone snubs me and I determine to keep the chilly atmosphere warm, by heaping loving-kindness on the now smoldering embers of friendship. But is it really loving-kindness, or is it control dressed up in niceties that successfully assist me in avoiding my shadow side.
For me, struggling through motives is nearly impossible. Changing the extent of my yes and both/and, I go back and forth pulling and pushing the outer edges of my circles. Usually the lines are blurred as I vacillate between my lower mind and my wounded emotions; but there within the vague, is the ongoing dialog with Spirit.
As I waggled back and forth, I begin letting go of the mind and the words, finally letting Spirit love my pain and me. Invariably, She reaches out to each clenched finger helping me loosen my grip on what I think I need and how I have determined to solve this thing, thus giving me a renewed sense of a broader hope.
God is Love and the Sacred Spirit of love is within. It is as simple as that. In the humility of living into this hope of wholeness and love, there is a freedom and a gift. It is the ever-widening place of the both/and.