Water

Water.  Born deep in my gut.  Fluttering up through my heart.  Spilling out into the corner of my eye.  Pool overflowing.  Trickling down my cheek.  Undone.  Uninhibited.  Such a seemingly harmless delicate melody.  Allowing.  Flowing.  Tears.  Crying wasn’t always effortless for me.  I used to be really good at holding everything in.  Years and years of relentless practicing.  My self-containing skills reaching an expert level.  My abilities so outstanding that my emotions had become inaccessible.  Straight face.  Stoic front.  Numb.  Disconnected.  Even in a safe setting, alone, I still couldn’t feel what I was feeling.  Weeping was just something that I could never do.  A prisoner of my own fortress.  The music an escape.  Poignant tunes.  Romantic, sentimental, happy, sad songs that wake up my inner aliveness.  Strangely, I have been noticing how I often feel happiest when I’m sad.  Maybe simply allowing myself to feel the sadness makes room for the happiness that lives behind it?  Like how I always felt so much better after crying it out as a child.  We are taught that sadness is something that needs to be fixed.  Maybe it just needs to be experienced?  There is nothing bad or wrong with sadness even if it can be unpleasant, seemingly unbearable at times.  Repressing it is what makes it dangerous.  Maybe depression isn’t too much sadness?  Maybe depression is too much repressed sadness?  Sadness is part of being alive.  Part of everything beautiful.  Part of romance. Part of death.  Sadness is what gives life meaning.  Love cannot exists without a certain sadness.  How deeply are you allowing yourself to feel it?  Water.