A spoonful of honey.

The two books of life.

The idea of balancing sweetness with sorrow is particularly relevant in today’s world. In case you don’t know, A Spoonful of Sugar is a song from Walt Disney’s 1964 film about Mary Poppins—the nanny and teacher of two children in Edwardian London. 

She tells the children though tasks may be daunting, with a good attitude, they can still be done with joy. To those living in 1910 London, the notion of daunting (just preceding WWI; the war to end all wars and the era of the Spanish Flu) may have been drastically different from those of us living today. They never saw that war or the pandemic coming. Nor do we have a crystal ball that portends our future. We can only deal with what appears on our doorstep moment by moment. Nobody can see the future with clarity but the attitude part, regardless of time and place, is critical for keeping us from fighting to our mutual destruction. While in the midst of any catastrophe we can get lost in despair and opposition without a perspective of this balance between the sweet and the sorrow. Not only is this a good attitude perspective, but it is also a reflection of reality since nothing comes along cleansed of the opposite.

This observation has become a part of our colloquial quiver of expressions but has also been a part of human traditions going all the way back to one of the oldest known sacred texts in ancient India—The Vedas, written sometime between 1700–1100 BCE. The now-dead language of that time/place was Sanskrit and the two-part principle of balance was known as Pratītyasamutpāda (dependent origination or dependent arising)—a key principle of Buddhism.

Pratītyasamutpāda makes the eyes blur, but in simple terms, it means this sweet and sorrow balance—one thing arising with the opposite. Deeply understood, dependent origination is a very useful perspective because it brings us back from the brink of my way or the highway thinking. All too often in today’s world, we forget that “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” It all depends on where we stand; our heritage, our traditions, the fish with whom we swim; all of it. 

And without this perspective of unity, we can get lost in talking at people (sometimes with fits of rage) to persuade them of our right points of view, rather than with people to gain understanding and empathy. The expression “United we stand, divided we fall” comes from ancient Greece and is found in the Bible (Matthew 12:25—“Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation, and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand.”) And of course Abraham Lincoln borrowed the expression to make a point during the Civil War.

Over the eons (when not locked into right opposed to wrong) the perspective of balance has been embraced by many cultures and ethnic groups, in both simplistic and profound terms, such as the American Indian Proverb, “Never criticize a man until you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins,” or one of my favorites from the Islamic mystic Rumi in his poem, The Guest House:

“This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.”

Any aspect of human wisdom that spans that range of time and space, across all spiritual boundaries, should tell us all something very important regarding the centrality of what binds us together and conversely, what drives us apart into camps of my way or the highway tribes of opposition. Sweet with sorrow rise and fall together as the two indivisible aspects of life. However, sage advice is only sage when it is incorporated into everyday life. Otherwise, wisdom is not wise, but instead remains mere words in dust-covered books with no practical value.