This sunset in Phuket reminded me—life’s never just one color.
The softness and the storm, the push and the pull, the rising swell and the lull—it’s all there.
Kind of like me.
Kind of like you.
To be human is to be a bipedal being of contradictions.
Below are eight poems on the pendulums I’ve been swinging between lately—
small swings between opposing truths.
Maybe you’re somewhere in the middle too?
~~~
(1) ⏳ Time vs. Money
I might die tomorrow And I want to live to be a centenarian. So I want to look out for my future self and save money. But future me, she cannot make more time– only more money. So when I make decisions, I’m torn—between what lasts, and what I’ll never get back.
(2) 🎤 Hannah Montana vs. Hiding
I want to be like Hannah Montana— sharing my gifts and being known, But still have privacy. Miley Cyrus’ character encapsulated the dichotomy. To live bravely, with loud expression while still keeping parts tucked away. Growing fans who adore her work While still having secrets, Walking down the street unknown. She had the best of both worlds.
(3) 💔Intimacy vs. Independence
I want to be intimate and vulnerable but I’m also afraid of being seen as flawed. I like being strong and self-sufficient— like I don’t need anyone. But then I see a man hug his girlfriend in an airport terminal, and I miss the kind of safety and co-regulation you can’t give yourself. I miss sharing the long stories instead of the short versions. I miss sharing new experiences together.
(4) 🧘♂️ The Buddha Way to Enlightenment
I want to be enlightened, like the Buddha— following the eightfold path to live without discontent, to swim in steady peace and joy. But that feels distant, even unrelatable. Most of humanity isn’t that way. But do I even want to be like most of humanity? After all, I’ve finally made strokes in accepting the hard emotions.
(5) ✝️ Jesus and Heaven
I want to lead life with love always, Just like Jesus, not to earn my way to heaven, but to live in a way that brings heaven to earth. To act with radical compassion, forgiveness, and presence. With selfless service to heal, even when love feels like crucifixion. But life’s busy with other worldly agendas, And striving for perfection in the face of endless evil is exhausting. Logic gets in the way of love Unexpressed feelings fester, Grudges become regularized, And fear follows. It becomes an uphill battle. But still— Carrying the weight of love, not as a burden, but as the path to purposeful becoming.
(6) 🧘♀️Growth vs. Wholeness
Humans are birthed into this Earth whole— enough, just as we are. And still, growing beyond that is a sacred kind of striving. And a worthwhile pursuit.
(7) 🥕 Maintenance vs. Meaning
I am a spiritual being living in a physical body— so it’s wise to take care: To floss, To avoid toxins, To stretch my limbs, To fill my heart with love, To sleep and support my brain, To protect my lungs from fumes, To fill my stomach with sustenance. But I must be careful— not to become a salary slave in society, pouring all my energy into maintaining the brain and body, while starving my spirit.
(8) ⚖️ Sensibility vs. Sensing
I want to make sense and still be moved— full of wind in my sails. To think with clarity, and act on instinct. To be measured and wildly free. Maybe the way forward isn’t choosing sides, but learning to hold both with grace. To find the middle way and walk it wide awake.
~~~
If one of these stirred something in your head or heart or spirit, feel free to write me back.
Thanks for swinging through the pendulum of polarities with me. There’s so many ways I can choose to live. It never bores me. It astounds me. It excites me.
See you next week. :)
Keep on learning, 💞🌟🌺
Jen
PS- if you’d like to read my favorite letters, the best way to encourage my work is to buy my book on Amazon here.
PPS - in case you missed last week’s letter on my spring life update, it’s here.
Beautiful poems Jen. You start with that spectacular image and end with the middle way, which feels fitting. The middle way is to make oneself anew, over and over again, as the sunset does each and every day, ignoring its previous brilliance or its future potential, just shining here and now—as you are doing with your poems.