I feel that sin and evil are the negative part of you, and I

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the words of Dolly Parton, who with simplicity and depth revealed an ancient truth: “I feel that sin and evil are the negative part of you, and I think it’s like a battery: you’ve got to have the negative and the positive in order to be a complete person.” Do not dismiss this as the mere utterance of a singer of songs; it is the testimony of one who has peered into the nature of the soul and found harmony between light and shadow. For within each of us dwell both negative and positive forces, and without both, the current of life cannot flow.

The ancients too knew this. They spoke of the yin and yang, the dark and the light, bound together in eternal embrace. They told of the gods who bore both wrath and mercy, destruction and creation. For man is not fashioned as a pure flame of goodness, nor as a cold stone of wickedness, but as a mingling of both. It is this mixture that makes him whole, this tension that drives him forward. As the battery must have both poles to give power, so too must the human heart reckon with its shadows in order to live fully.

Consider the journey of Saint Augustine, who in his youth wandered the paths of indulgence and sin, chasing desires that led him astray. Yet it was those very shadows, those experiences of weakness, that later gave strength to his voice when he turned to the light. Had he never known the negative, his understanding of grace and forgiveness would have been shallow. But because he embraced his full self—both fallen and redeemed—his words still thunder across centuries, guiding countless souls. Truly, the negative and the positive together made him a complete man.

But hear this, children of tomorrow: Dolly’s words are not a call to embrace wickedness without caution, nor to indulge sin as if it were a crown. No—she teaches us to recognize that the negative cannot be utterly banished, for it dwells in us as part of our nature. To deny it is to deny part of ourselves. To acknowledge it, to understand it, to master it—this is wisdom. For only when we accept the shadows within can we direct their energy toward growth, as a farmer turns waste into fertilizer for his field.

Let us look also to the story of Abraham Lincoln, who wrestled with deep melancholy all his life. This sorrow, a kind of darkness within him, might have crushed a lesser man. Yet Lincoln did not despise it; he bore it, and in bearing it he gained compassion, patience, and resilience. His negative became fuel for his positive, and the balance of both shaped a leader who could guide a torn nation with humility and strength. Without his inner darkness, perhaps he would not have had the depth to heal the outer one.

Therefore, let this be your lesson: do not curse the negative within you. Anger, doubt, sorrow, even failure—these are not chains meant to destroy you, but forces you may channel into wisdom, humility, and resolve. Just as a battery cannot give light unless both ends are joined, you cannot shine in this world unless you unite your brokenness with your gifts. To be complete is not to be flawless, but to be whole.

Practical action calls you: when anger stirs, let it drive you toward justice; when sorrow visits, let it deepen your compassion; when failure strikes, let it sharpen your resolve. Reflect often, and ask: “What power hides within this shadow? How can I turn this weight into strength?” In this way, you transform the negative into fuel, and the positive into light.

So remember Dolly’s teaching: “You’ve got to have the negative and the positive in order to be a complete person.” Do not despise your shadows, nor exalt only your light. Embrace both, and in their tension, find the current that moves your soul. For the one who knows their full self—dark and bright, bitter and sweet—is the one who walks as a complete human being, radiant and unbreakable, a torch in the vast night of the world.

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