Lesson On Sadness

by onenoteineternalrhapsody

Photo By: Rod Walker

You came to me, with blood and tears in your eyes.

My Child, in all your stubbornness, you came to me. Your head hanging down and your feet wading in the pool of your own sorrows, you still came to me.

“Look up, my Child.” You’re sense, red and yearning, looked towards me, willful, yet wounded and hurt.

I see you. I see you, beautiful and shining, digging your toes in the warm grains of sand, dancing with the pure rays of sunlight, and swaying to the gentle wind, one with me and one with all. Such a beautiful child you are, capable of the most profound expressions.

I know sometimes you can’t speak of the things you feel, those nameless urges you can’t ignore. You don’t have to say one word.

Sing, dance, write, paint.

Get it out there.

Not for the world to see, but for you to see and for you to know.

Get YOU out there in the world, this physical world, this world of connectivity and embrace.

Your touch, your feel, your emotion. You should express that, instead of trying to contain so much.

Why should we suppress what comes naturally to us? Sadness is natural, yet suppressed.

Am I to also control my love just as I am told to control my sadness?

Shall I pretend not to be angry, just in the name of politeness?

Shall I hold back the tears? Like perspiration of the soul, tears should be ranked among the blood, the oil, the saliva, and the sweat as a product of the body. One is not taught to hinder the production of the others. Still, the body’s tears are taught to be welled up, to be choked up, and to be held back.

Your body wishes to rid itself, rid itself of your pain, your hurt, your confusion, and your frustration.

All must released.

Tears should be allowed to cleanse our past wrongs and regrets.

Cry if you must. Cry if you will.

Cry for a lost friend.

Cry for a lost soul.

Cry for a lost day.

Cry for a lost moment.

Cry for a lost idea.

Cry for a lost love.

Cry until you rid yourself of that feeling that chokes you up in the the bottom of your throat, the one that wells up on the insides of your eyes and pinches at the bridge of your nose, that feeling. Cry until that is gone. Until you free yourself of that, the sadness will always remain behind your gaze, waiting to flood over the barricades you have built.