It’s Sep 21^st as I write this, several weeks before I intend to post it.

And I’m nervous and upset and frustrated and a few other things besides.

Because I’m looking at events in the world, and in the US, and I’m crushed with despair and so, so frustrated at seeing certain people on both sides of the divide making things constantly worse.

Now, I’m Australian as you may or may not remember, and I’d never even heard of Charlie Kirk before he was shot, but now I am hearing about him a LOT. From both sides. And I’m sickened by the celebration I see, and equally sickened by the self-righteousness aggression I see.

I know people will want me to plant my feet firmly in one corner or the other, but I… can’t.

I’m not on the right. I’m not on the left. Nor am I a centrist.

I believe that there is truth and error, goodness and evil, on both sides. And I refuse to be drawn completely into any static position. Not because I don’t have strong beliefs. I do. And not because I don’t want to sully myself with politics. To be human is to be political.

But because I don’t sit neatly anywhere.

Since finding a spiritual home in the contemplative form of Christianity advocated by Fr Richard Rohr, partisanship makes less and less sense. Instead, the most useful way to describe how I operate is the Yin-Yang symbol. I think perhaps I am the black dot in the white half, or the white dot in the black half.

Maybe I’m both.

I don’t know if this resonates with you, but I like the dynamic nature of this symbol. I like that those dots are there. That it’s not either/or, but both/and. I think there is wisdom in this symbol that the West needs. It’s about balance and harmony, and complexity. Order and chaos in just the right mix for life to thrive.

It’s a paradoxical symbol, much like the cross. Which so many people who like to call themselves Christian seem to ignore. And many of those who want to kill Christians conveniently forget.

There, I said it.

Much of my writing is born out of this tension, and this desire to bring both halves together. Not one side obliterating the other, but the best of both in true dialogue, complementing and enhancing each other. It’s the same image that Jesus used, of the wise householder bringing out things both old and new.

I also think this symbol is far more useful than the idea of a spectrum. The dividing line is still there, but it’s far more fluid and accommodating. In my opinion, almost anything currently represented on a spectrum can be better represented by these two halves wrapping around each other and including each other.

Humans, and by extension, human constructs, are a complex mix of good and evil—and sometimes we mistake one for the other. I have discovered this more and more as a writer. Crafting nuanced characters will do that.

We do good things for the wrong reasons, and terrible things for the right reasons. Dark in light; light in dark. The belief that subconsciously drives destructive choices usually has its root in something initially conceived to protect us. Conversely, beliefs that drive outwardly laudable choices like being hard-working and responsible can have their root in a fear of abandonment and rejection that twists them into something harmful.

Things are rarely simple, but one thing I will always be against is the celebration of violence. I will always advocate for healthier ways to deal with our very real anger and grief, and a culture that is both just AND compassionate. Strong AND gentle.

This vision for what our politics could be like, and what a society that truly valued people could look like found its way into the pages of Son of Osivirius, because I am not apolitical. But I am deeply uncomfortable with the way things are, and the package deals I’m expected to swallow whole.

And judging by the early feedback I’ve got, many others are too.