These days, I've been thinking about a discussion in a chat group with single-born children from multiple births – a group that, by definition, deals with imbalance. As is often the case in such groups, from yoga to shamanism, the vast majority of the two dozen members are female.

Then a man comments that “flower power” prevails “and pragmatic exchanges of experience are rare.” Anyone who knows me knows that I am absolutely not a proponent of flower power, wellness shamanism, or that kind of lifestyle, and that I am generally very pragmatic. But of course, this group does not consist solely of me.

It is clear that men and women often have very different perceptions and communication styles. I still remember two medicine walks during psychedelic retreats, where we were tasked with crossing the threshold and going as the opposite sex. It was only then that I understood how fundamentally different our perceptions are. I also remember a scene at another retreat when a group of men at the table immediately before a ceremonial night—which was supposed to be all about connecting with oneself and one's inner self—began talking about stock market prices, financial products, and the like. And it is also clear that the world needs both perspectives, yin and yang.

This man in the chat group then used the image of a swing, with him alone on one side and all the women on the other. In my capacity as co-admin of this chat group, I tried to find out exactly where he saw the problem, trying to see the whole thing from his perspective, from his side of the swing. I could and can wholeheartedly agree with some of his statements, such as that it is necessary to get in touch with one's feelings. But somehow this change of perspective did not succeed – “little moved to my side,” he wrote.

In this text, however, I am not so much concerned with the content as with what it meant for me. First of all, the whole thing led to a new insight in connection with my own twin story: I had the feeling that I had tried everything possible to maintain the connection with my counterpart, and in the end I failed—in the chat group as well as with my twin back then.

But it continued because, albeit belatedly, I noticed some fundamental aspects. Of course, my view here is very subjective and may not have much to do with what he actually meant. In any case, he went on to write that the solution was to “turn the most familiar things around 180 degrees”, to give more weight to the other side of the swing, to accept difference and to abandon egalitarianism. And this offer of a new perspective came about – this is my own wording – from his best intentions for the rest of us.

Somehow I stumbled upon this, but it took me a while to even begin to grasp what had caused me to stumble and then led me to fundamental questions.

So we have an imbalance on the swing. Each side of the swing is occupied by one aspect of a duality. The minority side says: come over to me, become like me. At first glance, this sounds logical, because then the swing can swing again (at least if the whole thing is then distributed more or less evenly), and swinging is fun, lively, dynamic. But what does that mean when I switch sides? I give up who I am to become like someone else. So can I really switch from one aspect of duality to the other?

Minorities are another issue, as is the compensation of injustices. For decades, if not centuries, there has been debate about how injustices can be compensated. Do minorities or previously disadvantaged groups need special protection, for example in the form of a quota system (at least x people on one side of the swing ...)? Or does that create another kind of injustice? Or must minorities integrate and adapt so that they are no longer minorities? Or should we simply say that everyone has all the freedoms they need and that the injustice will eventually even out?

Changing sides: I give up who I am to become someone else. Or, more precisely, to become who someone else wants me to be, with the very best of intentions for me. This implies that the other person knows what is good for me, whereas I am mistaken in my assumptions about what is good for me. Otherwise, I wouldn't be sitting on the wrong side of the swing. And if I don't manage to switch to the right side, then comes the classic feeling of having failed, of not being good enough (at least that's where I ended up).

The minority side says: come over to me. What if that doesn't happen? The minority is still sitting alone on their side of the swing and feels unseen, possibly even abandoned or rejected, because the other side did not accept the invitation, which, from the minority's perspective, was generous, open, and well-intentioned. Somehow, that doesn't feel good either.

When I think about it carefully (and I actually had to write this text up to this point to come to this conclusion...), it's subliminally about deficiency. It's about the fact that we are compelled to move somewhere else because something is missing there, so we are supposed to complete something there; or because we ourselves are missing something and we are more complete in that other place than we are here.

But perhaps that is precisely the wrong perspective? If each side is truly in its fullness—here I am, in all my strength, presence, love, in all my feminine and masculine aspects—then it may well be that at this moment, rocking is not possible because there are more people sitting here than there. But at another moment, it may be exactly the opposite, and there may be more sitting there than here. And there may be moments when we really swing, finding balance in a floating dynamic.

This reminds me of the meditation on the energy body at the beginning of each ceremony: an axis between heaven and earth, spirit and matter; an axis between left and right, female and male, intuition and reason; an axis between front and back, past and future. On each of these axes, we balance ourselves in every single moment, not statically, but dynamically, adapted to the situation at hand. And thus, every state has its justification.

With this in mind, let us celebrate our flower power! We will gladly address stock market prices at another time.

(Summer 2025)