In that scenario there was a clear and straightforward desire for me: I wanted the good little girl to "win". Because, of course, she was "good", with all the black and white simplicity that knowledge offered. The war within the little girl offered the same reassuring clarity of a super hero story, except in that it was being fought internally, which made it all the more powerful. These days there is no fight between good and evil, but, there are, of course, still battles. Of the multitudes contained within me, there are two who have been battling for supremacy. I call them sisters, and they are represented within me as The Pagan and The Buddhist. Both are beautiful people. A long way from touching the divine maybe, but beautiful. The problem is, they are at a stalemate, pulling in opposite directions like the horses of The Chariot in Tarot.
The Pagan loves self expression. She is devoted to colour and art and sound and texture. She thrills to music and the beat of the drum, and loves to watch a candle flicker. She wants to enter the world in a blaze of light, not dominant, but not submissive either. She would proclaim and celebrate her individuality, standing proudly and reverently alongside the beauty of other beautiful individuals.
The Buddhist craves both solitude and extreme simplicity. She delights equally in the caress of the sun, the blessing of bird song and the kiss of the breeze. But unlike her sister, she is hurt by the trappings of self expression. In order to hear the delicate music of the universe and to feel its weft and warp she needs to remove all external trappings and be in silence. Life speaks to her in unimaginable ways, but only in those moments of self-forgetfulness.
The truth is, The Buddhist needs The Pagan and The Pagan loves and cherishes all that The Buddhist teaches her. The Buddhist is not as yet very strong; she is far too easily swept up and engulfed by the world. She has not yet found the strength of her own boundaries and she cannot stand firmly as an adult. The Pagan is the warrior who will fight for their freedom and will negotiate the strange complexities of the world on their behalf. But in the end, if she would touch the divine, she must follow where The Buddhist leads.
Perhaps they are not sisters after all, but lovers. And their challenge is to learn to be together in the same space without cancelling each other out. Between them there is a strange and powerful paralysis, a stalemate. How shall the flame not evaporate the water nor the water extinguish the flame? Somehow, in working together, they must find that solution that is "both and". I do not know how this story ends but I do know that there is no victory unless both emerge together, strong.