Contrary to what you may believe, this is not a sad post.
“Tears are words that need to be written”. I once read that quote in Paulo Coelho’s blog. Back when I could read Paulo Coelho. This week has reminded me of that statement more than ever, because I have cried. Uncontrollably, like an erupting volcano; like a child, senselessly. And the worst was that I, the queen of introspection, could not pinpoint what was wrong with me, after having walked such a long way holding myself by the hand, examining every shade to my every thought; after thinking that I had grown into the strongest version of me there had ever been. And when the thought crossed my mind, that perhaps all my happiness had been a fool’s illusion, I cried even more. Even more senselessly. Like only those who cannot understand cry.
Often, life feels like a permanent rehabilitation program, where we all try to get sadness out of our system, even though we know we will forever be addicts. We will forever dance on the edge, the wild fire at the other side, the wind swirling ferociously, threatening to blow us away into the flames. It all comes at once, when you expect it the least: the passion, the emotion; and then the nothingness, the lethargy, the sensation of walking the world through a dense fog that keeps every experience out of reach, our body numb, our soul depleted, eaten by the crows that fear sent our way. And that is the point where we collect, clean up, and reinvent ourselves. Until the next cycle starts.
Yes, sadness is the sweetest of drugs. We simply cannot escape its allure. Sadness is magnetic, it is rich, full of contrasts and shades. It is beautiful and its experience should not scare us. It is also natural, for we are evolutionarily predisposed to scan the environment for the negative -a vital survival mechanism. Happiness, on the other hand, is elusive like a sylph. It is undefinable, undissectable, irreproducible. Yet we all try to find its recipe. At times, we try too hard. And perhaps while trying -trying to be the most efficient, trying to do my best- I fell. And it was probably necessary, because happiness feasts on sadness too, like an innocent and pure creature caught late at night committing a terrible crime. We need to change our skin, to make ourselves vulnerable again, to feel everything to the fullest, to rise higher than ever.
Tears are, indeed, words that need to be written
When I am sad I like to write. I like to close my eyes and visualize how the emotional pain fluctuates through my body, and try to get these feelings into words. It is actually the only time that I am able to really write, to write things that awaken my soul. Sadness is what gives me my momentum, it is when I am the closest to the deepest of truths, closest to my primal self; and although we can all agree that it is not enjoyable to feel sadness, I find it enlightening. The truth, however, is that I feel less and less sad as I grow older. With age, happiness seems to become more subdued, less intense, but so is sadness. I used to write a lot in the past, to pour my soul into words, to make up my mind about my feelings. Now, not that much so. It must be that I need it less. I guess, I will have to find my momentum elsewhere, for no matter how much I embrace sadness, I feel happiness simply much more often.
Do you hear me? Yes! I am happy much, much more often that I am sad. But still,
I think our goal in life should not be aiming at not experiencing sadness again, but to make room in our hearts for it, in small doses but large enough to let us recognize when happiness comes knocking on our door. Sometimes it is just necessary to cry a bit, to cry sadness goodbye, to find a secret spot to hide and lick our wounds, far away from humanity. To start a new cycle, to walk one step closer towards our core. To be happier.