Conquering sadness

Sadness exists. Even the brightest of us are prone to bouts of tears, moments when we let the floodgates open and release all our pent-up toxins and worry. And that in itself is a healing process. Or so I’m told. Yet, if I were to say it the way it is, being sad only makes me sadder. Crying only makes it worse and the first bout of depression only leads to deeper stages of depression. That said, we are human. We will be sad. We will cry, scream and wail.

So how do we rise above it, without letting go of our basic instinct to hurt, or to feel? How can we not let that one voice, that single memory or that one name get the better of us? How to reach that point where you’re floating above the hurt and pain? Where you see it but don’t feel it? You acknowledge its presence, but not let it overpower you?

The only way I know is what my wise friend N told me: To forgive. Forgive yourself, forgive the other person, forgive the moment, forgive the universe. He made me understand that the person who’s hurt us most is just a face for that hurt. The same depth of pain could have been caused by any other face, yet the universe chose to make it this face. Why? Just because. Doesn’t matter why. What matters is we realise that no other person is responsible for our happiness or unhappiness. They’re just the face of it. Therefore, we need to forgive ourselves and we need to forgive the universe for the moment our paths crossed, for the moment emotions were formed, for the moment we allowed ourselves to fall. 

With so much forgiving and accepting to do, one would think we wouldn’t even have time left over to feel the hurt or pain any more. But instead of focusing on forgiving, we tend to focus on the anger, the need for revenge, for retribution, or even just proving a point. All we’re doing there is focusing on our ego. And trust me, there isn’t a single positive emotion your ego has ever created. None.

So what now? What’s the point of all this? Is it just the inane ramblings of a girl born two decades too late? The yak of a single woman trying to make it in this world? Or conversation straight from the heart? Because that’s what it is. All of it. A single girl conveying the messages of her heart to a world she should have seen 20 years before she did.

There’s my little secret.

Stay in peace

Waiting for the perfect world

Sometimes I don’t understand people. Correction. A lot of the time I don’t understand people. Take for example this morning. Walking into the place I normally walk into five days a week, I can’t help but look around, make eye contact, exchange a smile or two on my way to the coffee machine, then head to my regular spot, chirpy and happy in the here and now. And you probably know what happens next.
Gloomy faces all around. Sombre expressions telling tales of sorrow and despair. It’s the face I’d adopt if the bodies on this planet abandoned their souls and set about on a quest of hatred. So why such extreme doom and gloom 9am in the morning then? I sat and tried to figure it out. I took a little walk and kept trying to figure it out. Mulled over a coffee desperately trying to find out why. I tried and I tried, and I’m still trying even now.
Why the gloom? Could everyone have gotten out the wrong side of bed this morning? Not that I agree with that term anyway. I mean, what’s the wrong side? A bed’s a bed. It fulfills its mission to give you warmth and comfort upon contact. How can that have the word wrong attached to it in any way? And what's with the word “wrong” in the first place? Who created it? What’s wrong? What’s right? Who decides? Who has the right to? Right, wrong, good, bad, sin, grace… it’s all subjective. It’s all personal.
But I digress. Back to the uncalled for gloom.
… Actually, hang on a tic. I think I want to digress. Not necessarily to being against the concept of wrong, but to anything else. There’s enough pompousness, ego and grumpiness all around as it is, without me adding my energy to the mix by writing about it. Because, by writing about a thing, I’m automatically condoning it, accepting it, allowing it to be, to manifest. Ordinarily, who am I to deny anything its existence, but gloom, ego, anger and jealously … it hurts to even write down those words.
So let’s not. Let’s imagine a perfect world, with little butterflies of hope carrying messages of love. A world where people smile like retards (not the scary smiles though), a world where difference is celebrated, instead of fought over. A world minus war, religion and politics. A world of purple breezes and blue skies. A world without borders. A world rich in colour, where every kid has a reserve 10kg bag of candy, every animal has a loving environment to call home, every plant grows wild and free, every man love the other, every woman stands strong, where prejudices are a thing of the past and people, black, while, brown, yellow, straight, gay, tall, short, rich and poor all stand shoulder to shoulder, creating a circle of love, illuminating the purest of light and living as one.
Bet that made you crack at least the hint of a smile, huh?