We Can Hold Two Truths at the Same Time

Life rarely unfolds in neat, linear ways. Instead, it presents us with paradoxes. We’re taught that truth should be clear and singular, but human experience shows us something different: we can hold two truths at the same time, and they don’t have to complement one another.

This isn’t a flaw in us. It’s not a sign of confusion. It’s a sign of being human.

The Myth of “Either/Or”

Our culture thrives on extremes. You’re either strong or weak. Happy or sad. Forgiving or resentful. Healing or broken. But this either/or way of thinking flattens the complexity of who we really are.

The truth is, we can feel light and heavy in the very same breath. We can laugh through tears. We can celebrate a new chapter of life while grieving the one that ended.

Think of dawn: the sky is both dark and light. Night doesn’t vanish instantly when the sun rises. They overlap, coexisting in a way that is breathtaking if you pause to notice. That’s what our truths often do linger together, layered and unresolved, yet still real.

I remember a season where joy and sorrow braided themselves so tightly I couldn’t separate them. I was stepping into new beginnings, building a life that felt more aligned, and at the same time grieving the relationships, identities, and familiar rhythms I had outgrown.

I didn’t want the grief to be there. I thought it meant I wasn’t truly happy. But I learned it was possible to be both: hopeful and sad, grateful and longing. And in that tension, I realized something powerful: one truth didn’t erase the other. They were both invitations to know myself more deeply.

Yoga as a Teacher of Paradox

When you’re in a posture like Warrior II, there’s strength in the legs and openness in the chest. Effort and ease meet in the same breath. The body is grounded and rooted, yet the gaze is expansive and forward-looking. Both are true.

In Yin Yoga, you soften into stillness, but it’s not passive; you're actively staying present in discomfort, breathing into sensation rather than running from it. Ease and intensity coexist.

Meditation as a Space for Both/And

In meditation, you can feel restless and peaceful at the same time. Thoughts wander, the body aches, and yet, beneath it, there is quiet awareness. The paradox isn’t a problem; it’s part of the practice.

Even the breath itself is paradoxical: inhale expands, exhale releases. You are simultaneously filling up and letting go, moment after moment.

Holistic Healing as Living with Paradox

In Reiki, energy work, or even grief rituals, you may notice healing doesn’t mean the wound disappears. It means carrying the scar with more spaciousness. You can feel pain and wholeness. You can be tired and still connected to your inner strength.

These practices remind us that paradox is not an obstacle; it's the terrain of being human.

Everyday Life as a Classroom of Paradox

The truth is, we don’t have to be on a yoga mat or meditation cushion to experience paradox.

It shows up in the most ordinary moments:

• You can feel tired but not sleepy, your body heavy yet your mind alert.

• You can miss someone deeply and still feel relieved that the relationship changed.

• You can be excited for a new opportunity and terrified at the same time.

• You can feel lonely in a crowd and connected in solitude.

• You can love your family fiercely while needing space from them to breathe.

  
  

These everyday paradoxes remind us that being human is about learning to stretch wide enough to hold both truths without forcing them to resolve.

The Practice of Holding Two Truths

When we allow ourselves to hold two truths:

• We stop policing our emotions.

• We make space for compassion, both inward and outward.

• We let go of the pressure to “fix” or “tidy up” our inner life.

  
  

Here are a few ways to practice:

1. Name them out loud. Write or say: “I am ___ and I am ___.” Notice how your body feels when you allow both.

2. Visualize balance. Imagine holding two smooth stones in your hands. Neither outweighs the other. Both belong.

3. Pause before judgment. When you feel like a contradiction, ask: “What if both are true? What if I don’t have to choose?”

4. Breathe into wholeness. Place your hand on your chest, inhale deeply, and affirm: “My complexity is not a flaw. It is my fullness.”

   
   

The freedom we crave doesn’t come from resolving every contradiction. It comes from permitting ourselves to live in both.