Light Up the Lighthouses

Now Is the Time for Both/And

This morning, I woke up from a dream where the line, “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” was on repeat. I shared recently how I’ve been managing the worst of times part, but what did my subconscious mean about the best of times?

My waking mind tries to translate: Maybe it is that the best of times is within reach, if we can crack through these worst of times? Or, maybe it’s that I need to pay attention to what is best within me, around me, and in this world, and draw strength from it and amplify it further? Or, maybe it is about making space for the wide multiplicity of truths present every day and recognizing that the best of times and worst of times are just there all the time? (I don’t think my psyche felt any need to pay homage to Charles Dickens, so I’ll leave that interpretation out for now.)

In sitting with it more as the day unfolds, and as I look to all the themes that have been coming up lately in my life, community, and work, I think the message has to do with celebrating the both/and — in me, with us, everywhere, and all at once.

As far as I can tell from my limited internet research, both/and came up in the 1980s, as a counterpoint to either/or thinking. Instead of seeing only two options, in which only one of the two can be true (either you like donuts, or you hate donuts), both/and suggests that multiple truths are present at the same time (you like donuts when you want a sugary pick-me-up and don’t like them first thing in the morning.) (And, yes, by you, I mean, me.)

For me, both/and dovetails with the Jain principle of Anekantavada, which literally translates as ‘infinite paths to truth’. Anekantavada starts with the acknowledgement that reality is quite complex and multifaceted, and therefore, no single viewpoint could ever represent the complete truth, and by extension, no one could ever have a monopoly on the truth. To practice Anekantavada, I need to be humble, to see the limitations of my own knowledge, while also embracing the existence of multiple perspectives, both known and unknown to me. It’s quite a cool principle and truly sits at the foundation of most of my bridge-building, community-healing, and conflict transformation work in this world. Both/and is what makes not just co-existence, but also co-creation and co-learning possible, because it makes space for everyone to participate and belong.

In restorative justice and conflict transformation work, both/and gives space to all the parties involved, to honor intentions and impacts, and to recognize the complexity of reality and of each of us as beings — that we can show up to the same moment and experience it very differently. I’ve also heard a variation of it in improvisational theater or comedy. It’s called Yes/And and speaks to flow and collaboration. Rather than cutting off a storyline or a sketch with No/But, players are encouraged to expand the realm of possibility by taking what’s there and contributing to its growth. Yes, I see you, And, I add a bit to it. Like the most delicious infinitely layered cake.

With all the chaos of this political moment, in my deepest core, I hold a vision for tremendous solidarity — a both/and approach to this moment of time and reality. I can imagine how that would help us cut through and across the political division, the racial division, the gender division, the geographic division, the generational division, and more, and weave us together into a shared web of mutual reciprocity and collective well-being.

Here, I don’t mean the very base idea of having a common enemy in Trump, Musk, Vance, and other techno-bro oligarchic billionaires. To me, that feels too simplistic and also too fleeting (though I definitely understand it as a helpful starting point). Yes, what they are doing is violent and devastating to both land and people, and needs to be stopped; and at the same time, I see that their actions are helping to reveal the deep sickness in this system and how we could break through to bring greater alignment for all. I think it would be tragic to replace their version of either/or, with our version of the same.

Rather, I see the opportunity to elevate into the both/and. To understand that, as human beings, much more ties us together — in our hearts, in our spirits, genetically — than splits us apart. To believe how the space for ‘seeing you’ and ‘adding to it’ would change the whole game. How it would radically upend the either/or, survival-of-the-fittest, my-pain-is-bigger-than-your-pain, competitive, winner-take-all approach that this country has been suffering from and spreading all over the world for the last 250+ years. How we could weave ourselves together, and level up into the Declaration of Interdependence with all of life.

What does it take to do that in this moment? To grow the both/and right now? As I mentioned awhile ago, cultures are made up of mindsets, skillsets, and structures, and when we bring all together, we can experience powerful transformation. Since both/and is a profound mindset shift, I want to look at the skillsets and the structures to support it. (And, I invite you to add more in the comments below.) (Yup, I went meta meta both/and on you. See how I did that?)

Structurally, I invite us to cultivate more ‘third places’ / lighthouses in our world. Recently, I was sharing with a few colleagues about my lifelong commitment to community-building, and how I felt that work was where I could best bring my skills and presence in this moment. One of them mentioned the concept of third places — places outside of home (the first place) and work (the second place), where we can come together intentionally to be learning, supporting, connecting, with others in our community. I dug around after our conversation and learned that the term comes out of Ray Oldenburg and Karen Christensen’s book, The Great Good Place (first published in 1989 and republished in 2023). Third places are cafes, libraries, parks, clubs, hackerspaces, etc., with seven key characteristics: they are open and inviting; comfortable and informal; convenient; unpretentious; there are regulars; conversation is the main activity; and laughter is frequent. The authors contend that these third places are the foundation of civil society and democracy, and they can mitigate loneliness, curtail polarization, and foster climate resiliency.

While these authors describe these third places as anchors of community, perhaps in this moment they could be imagined as lighthouses for refuge, respite and recharge. Light-shining is the primary skillset being practiced in these third places. Everyone is afforded the opportunity to bring their wholeness — their joy and their grief, their anger and their hope, their pain and their power — and the lighthouses offer a container for that to be heard and held with each other. They shine a light on people and offer the light of other beings for support, connection, and co-learning. Such third places recognize that any one of us may be hurting and/or healing, in any given moment, and make space for the both/and, within us and between us. Communituesday — the weekly potluck that I co-founded with some friends 15 years ago, that is making its resurgence this year post-pandemic — exemplifies this spirit, as does the monthly-ish South Asian Femmes Brunch that has been going strong for the last year. In both cases, people are opening up their homes as lighthouses, gathering community with food, welcome, and loving presence.

I think we can cultivate more of these third places, both in our communities and in our workplaces. Last week, I was invited to create a connective and healing space for some folks in the judicial branch of the government. In my few conversations to prepare for it, I could hear their longing for more camaraderie and well-being in their office. With just a few hours of healthy container-building, with games and simple tools, story-sharing, and a check-in circle, I witnessed a softening and the emergence of a sense of community. It didn’t seem to take much more than slowing down with intention and presence. The experience gave me hope that we could even cultivate third places inside our first and second places (another both/and!), and that the practices can be within reach of all of us.

In addition to these collective lighthouses, I am giving myself the gift of the both/and. I have been asking myself, What song does my heart want to sing now?

I know the fundamental melody is the same – of connection, of joy, of healing – and I sense that there are new harmony parts in this moment. There’s a part that gets exhausted by the suffering and takes on too much, feeling the weight crushing me. That harmony is calling me to witness, to with-ness, to invite compassion, to suffer with others – without collapse. Eyes wide open, feet planted solidly, embrace at the ready, and also just being here, now, without turning away.

The song is also one of surprising notes. Who knows when the drums will kick in, the piccolo will tweet, the sax will slip in on a sultry slide? I want to live the both/and, by finding new players and coming together in new ways. The less I know, or think I know, the more of the mystery I can receive. These fresh flavors will make the music taste better. As will the space for silence. For the quiet that penetrates the chaos and the tiniest candle that shakes the darkness. I can hear these harmony parts, too.

And, there are even more layers to this both/and cake. I can hear the song from the Black gospel tradition, “Let it shine on me, oh, let it shine on me. Let the light from the lighthouse, shine on me.” My heart (maybe like yours) sings the dream of my ancestors — they who dreamed me into existence. And, I, in turn, will dream of my descendants. It is our song. 300,000 years long. And, we’re still singing.

Where and how can you bring the both/and into your life and work? What lighthouses can you cultivate? I’d love to hear in the comments, if you’re willing to share.