For poet Mary Oliver it was the blue iris that gave her pause. For me, it is the yellow iris. In her poem Praying Oliver writes: “It doesn’t have to be the blue iris, it could be weeds in a vacant lot or a few small stones; just pay attention, then patch a few words together …” As I stood admiring the tall yellow iris, I patched a few words together. “I see you have returned in full splendour,” I whispered. Last year, I had stood in that same spot admiring the iris. On my daily walks these past months I watched the iris bloom and die. During the winter months, this same spot was barren and frozen. There was no sign of the lovely iris. In April, when warm rays of spring sun thawed the ground, suddenly there were tips of green poking through the soil reaching for light and warmth. I watched these shoots grow tall, eagerly awaiting the first buds, harbingers of the return of the bright yellow crown of the iris. On my walks these days, I make it a point to pause and admire the iris now once again in full bloom. As it does each year, it took the entire cycle of dying and rising for this lovely yellow iris to bloom.
While I stood admiring the iris, I recalled what the Danish philosopher, Søren Kierkegaard, observed long ago: “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.” Like for the iris, how we got to where are today, depends entirely on the past, that which we have lived. However, we know life cannot go on if we constantly dwell on the past and on things not in our power. Kierkegaard urges us to keep living for the future, and herein lies the paradox - not only does the past keep looking over our shoulders it lurks right here in our midst. Yes, we all live forwards but can only understand backwards. A case in point is the recent discovery of the remains of 215 children found buried at a former Indian Residential School in Kamloops, British Columbia. The news of the devastating history of this tragedy left Canada reeling. The past is never past; it reaches into the present. While we struggle to comprehend the Kamloops tragedy backwards it surely may be the catalyst prompting us to move forward, to shape a more just and equitable future for this country.
For the first time, this year Canada claimed the top spot in the annual ranking of best countries for quality of life. This beautiful country purportedly with the best quality of life, has a dark history. What a stark paradox. Vacillating between opposites is what life so often is about. There is the good, the bad, and the ugly not only in Canada but all over the world. We, you and I, and all people contribute either to the good, the bad, or the ugly in our world. We each have a choice.
On June 6 here in London, Ontario, a 20-year-old chose to brutally mow down a Muslim family with his pickup truck while they were out for a walk. As I write this, the public funeral of the four members of this family is being aired on TV. Hundreds of Londoners of all faiths came to support the family of the deceased and of the entire Muslim community. The presence of so many is a witness and reminder that darkness and light so often are juxtaposed. Out of the dark, seemingly barren earth, the beautiful yellow iris grew and bloomed. It is evident, many of the people here in London are choosing to bring light into this tragically dark moment to birth something new in this land ranked as the best country.
“The Spirit of God also hovers over us even during these dark times. ”
Even in this best country, we will always live with paradoxes. There is no need to look afar. Paradoxes are part of who we are. Thankfully, extremes like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are rare. For all of us, though, facing the paradoxes within ourselves can be a real challenge. We all know the struggles and pitfalls when we are faced with choosing between doing the good, the bad, or the ugly. At times we all stumble. We tend to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and hope to do better. Change is never easy. Changing ourselves is a real challenge. Psychologist Carl Rogers, who had great insight into human nature, famously said, “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.” Easier said than done.
“isn’t it odd. We can only see our outsides, but nearly everything happens on the inside”
We can learn from the yellow iris. Out of darkness beauty can be birthed. In the first chapter of Genesis, we read that when the earth was “formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.” The Spirit of God also hovers over us even during these dark times. Life will never be perfect, yet we can change ourselves and help to make our world a better place for all. Earlier this week I came upon these wise words by Parker Palmer, “As often happens on the spiritual journey, we have arrived at the heart of a paradox: each time a door closes, the rest of the world opens up.” The tragedy of the pandemic, of the 215 children buried in Kamloops, and of the senseless killing of the Muslim family could be a door closing on a terrible darkness. On this side of the closed door, with new hindsight, may Canada and the rest of the world, in Kierkegaard’s words, “live forward” to a better and brighter future for all. A glimmer of light and hope is made visible amid the darkness.
-Sister Magdalena Vogt, cps