The concept of duality has been a constant and present topic of pensive moments for me for well over a decade. The idea that two things, two moments, can coincide into one being—one meaning. This has been a frequent and fundamental principle of coping with past traumas while simultaneously learning to be happy within my present and optimistic about my future. I have learned that I can trust myself to hold duality—to coexist in my trauma and my healing equally.
Recently, through profound and rigorous conversations with friends following the upheaval of leaving an abusive marriage, another aspect to this concept has surfaced that has led my thoughts to expand on this topic and explore new iterations of how to exist in my dualistic state.
Regardless of any particular spiritual belief one may possess, it is a common practice to admire (or even idolize) people from our collective past. This topic, in the context of a particular friend and our shared curiosity about the universe, questioned whether or not I believed in any form of reincarnation. In short: I do.
I believe, fluidly and without the dubious nature of faith or religion, that energy exists in quantifiable amounts that change and are altered by the things it encounters. Energy is ever present and ever changing. In my view, the energy that comprises the current iteration of the human race has to be the very same energy that has always composed humanity. In this way, I do believe it is possible to possess the energy, or essence, of the lives that energy passed through in its time.
When questioned about this thought process, I invited my friend to consider my vast interests and those from the past that I admire. Without question, the primary historical figure that would occur to those who know me to fit this answer would be Charlie Chaplin. I am not ashamed to admit I am unabashedly obsessed with the man and his collective works. I adore the ideals he lived by and I swoon about how the end of his life was akin to the stories he so often told: he found true romance and heartfelt love and lived happily ever after in the same ragged attire he always wore. And yet, I feel absolutely no kinship in him—no familiarity in his story.
To circle back to the concept of duality, this friend noted the two historical figures I did mention as feeling an innate connection to: Vincent Van Gogh and Cleopatra VII Thea Philopator. This struck her hard, and she considered it for several days before revisiting the topic with me and the relevance to my current circumstances.
Prior to the constraints and abuses of the relationship to the father of my child, I was a celestial heat. I was clever, cunning, fearless, and unstoppable. The state I found myself in upon entering the domestic violence shelter was timid, docile, quiet, and uncertain—but full to the brim with soft compassion.
The mention of the two figures who felt a part of me struck something deep within my friend, and a pattern emerged to her. She was a key component in helping me get back on my feet following my liberation, and she watched me fight between my docile nature and my fierce fire. She offered insight that has led me to begin considering how those two energies can be honored and allowed to co-exist in harmony within myself. Is this my true dualistic nature?
