Tuesday, March 26, 2019

"don't cry out loud..."


"don't cry out loud,
just keep it inside,
and learn how to
hide your feelings.."

Sadness is not an emotion that I wrestle with very often, but when it hits, I can hear Melissa Manchester's  "Don't Cry Out Loud"  playing in my head. A 1978 classic, it was my soundtrack during many battles with hopelessness and depression. I can think of very few songs that elicit such a feeling of complete sorrow for me.

I used to think that sadness was circumstantial. When, in my late teens and early twenties, my life was falling apart -- I thought my circumstances warranted feelings of hopelessness and depression. It was all so personal.

But of late, I have realized that sadness is an impersonal invitation. A suggestion. It comes to most of us as a wave of feeling. We begin to search for a reason for that feeling. A memory from the past or a near-time incident steps into the void and is more than willing to take credit for the feeling. It sinks its hook, and pulls us under.

That happened to me very recently. I woke with a feeling of gray sorrow. It was like all the edges of a bright blue sky, or the sound of laughter, were faded and mournful. I couldn't seem to shake off a feeling of heavy dread. I prayed, and my prayers were clear and confident, but if I turned too quickly -- the gray was hovering in the periphery.

I found myself looking for a cause. Was it a conversation I'd had with a loved one? A looming decision? Some unexpected expenses? A regret from the past? The deeper I dug for a reason, the darker the pit became.

I knew that I needed to turn around and follow the light, but now I was tired. Couldn't I just rest here in the tunnel for a while? Close my eyes, and pray? That would help, wouldn't it? I knew I had been in this very cave before. Too many times in fact. And I knew that resting in the darkness would only lead to a sleepy sense of self-pity.

Then I remembered two simple lines from the Bible, and Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy:


"The light of ever-present Love
illumines the universe."

"O send out Thy light
and Thy truth,
let them lead me;
for the Lord my God
will enlighten my darkness..."


I knew that the name for God as "Lord," is directly translated to "Love," in Science and Health.   Rather than curling up in self-despair, I needed to turn around in that pit and start climbing towards the light. And that light, was Love. I might not be able to fix the problems, or improve my circumstances, but I could love. I could find someone, and be kind. I could pray a prayer of appreciation and blessing for someone. I could behold [see, and call attention to] the good in something -- anything.

Sadness, sorrow, depression are not personal. They are like wandering ghosts without a home. They have no entity, no substance -- that is why they invite themselves into the space of our consciousness. Then they dig around in our mental drawers and photo albums looking for a reason for it to make sense that they are there. They invite us to sit in a darkened room and ruminate over faded images and crumpled moments.

For just a moment, imagine yourself jumping up from that dusty old chintz covered sofa and throwing open the curtains. Grabbing the photo album and putting it back where it belongs and telling those insidiously dark thoughts to: "please leave -- now." Then grabbing your jacket, locking the door behind, you and walking out into the sunshine -- and a thousand opportunities to be kind, share a smile, do something good for someone else.

I know it sounds simplistic. But, perhaps it is simple. Saying "no" when the first wave of sadness crashes over us. Digging our toes into the sand and finding bedrock in our right to love. To live outside the pit of self.

I only know, that the longer I stay curled in the pit with my eyes closed, the deeper it pulls me into its darkness. But the sooner I find someone to love, and care for -- the happier I feel.

offered with Love,





Kate




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