Since I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2022 and now find myself undergoing treatment again for a tumor that decided to show up, I keep questioning what it means to (co)exist between joy and sorrow. We celebrate a loved one’s birthday and, the next day, cry over a devastating test result. I share that I’m feeling better and more energetic, while my dear grandmother has been in the hospital for over two months in a critical condition after being hit by a car. I laugh at my dog’s adorable antics while the world seems increasingly divided, with strange forces spreading fear and hatred.
It’s not easy.
Is it possible to split ourselves in two? One me to deal with tragedy, another to embrace joy—without one colliding with the other? Or do we simply have to coexist in this duality? That’s how I feel every day. And along with it comes a mix of guilt, perhaps? Even though I know I can’t—and shouldn’t—be responsible for healing the world’s pain, the question lingers: what can I do to help?
The other day, during an intense super power Kundalini Yoga class—where we moved our bodies frenetically for 50 minutes, full of energy and joy—the instructor invited us to chant a mantra in honor of a student’s mother who had recently passed away. She explained that this mantra could be recited for up to 17 days after someone’s passing, helping both the soul transition peacefully and bringing comfort to those left behind. So we chanted together, for the student and her mother.
When the class ended, I felt an overwhelming urge to hug her. We are not friends, barely acquaintances—I had only seen her a few times in class. And for those who know me, I’m zero hugs. I even call myself “Little T-Rex” because my arms are short, and hugging doesn’t come naturally to me. But at that moment, the gesture was beyond me. It was a necessity that came from somewhere deeper.
I walked up to her, eyes filled with tears, stretched out my tiny arms, and we shared a long embrace.
In that instant, I felt that coexistence in this paradoxical universe was possible—that joy and sorrow, in some crazy way, help each other. And so, we carry on.
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