Sadness

There is a Beauty in Her Sadness...

She had wondered why she felt so Sad, all day, verging on the ‘I feel sorry for myself state’. The sadness surged up, uninhibited, when she finally sat down to play the first notes of the evening on the guitar. She was sitting on the balcony. Spontaneously, she criticized this state of being, deliberately deciding to think it away.

But, this time, instead, she turned it 180 degrees and instructed herself to wade into it. What DOES sadness really feel like?

She looked out above the balcony railing, still stroking the guitar, her gaze entering the cold, blue sky, puffs of cloud lingering. The pine tree family stand still, oh so still, after last night’s windstorm. Refreshed they must feel after the rainfall. The air against her cheeks is moist and cool, like a drink of water from a mountain stream. As if drawn by a hand holding a pencil, swaths of fresh snow fill and cover crevasses and talus slopes and delineate sedimentary layers that form the peaks of Fountain Ridge. The last rays of a Winter Sun are patchworks against the fortress of these mountains.

Engaging fully into the state of sadness isn’t really so bad after all.