Reading passages from Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet had always been nurturing. This was especially true for his view on reconciling "reason" and "passion." Added emphasis appears in red, and my reactions are enclosed in a box: (Note 109)

And the priestess spoke again and said: Speak to us of Reason and Passion.

And he answered, saying:

Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.

Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody.

But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements?

The parts hiding in my shadow were just as worthy as those in broad daylight. I needed to make peace with all subpersonalities. Embracing rejected parts became the foundation for healing my personal split.

Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.

If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.

For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.

Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion, that it may sing;

And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.

As a sailboat enthusiast, the sailing metaphor captured my attention. I went on to use these lines as a theme quote in several publications.

I would have you consider your judgment and your appetite even as you would two loved guests in your house.

Surely you would not honour one guest above the other; for he who is more mindful of one loses the love and the faith of both.

Conflicting subpersonalities were all guests in my psyche. If I wanted support from the rejected parts, I would have to honor them as well.

Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows - then let your heart say in silence, "God rests in reason."

And when the storm comes and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky, - then let your heart say in awe, "God moves in passion."

And since you are a breath in God's sphere, and a leaf in God's forest, you too should rest in reason and move in passion.

No matter how much I might have disliked intuitive knowing, both modes were equal in the sight of universal spirit. Reason and passion flowed with equal grace from the holomovement.