"A frown is just a smile turned upside-down," right? How about, "you can't appreciate the good without the bad"? All just cliches and ways to rationalize sadness, or so I used to think. Now I wonder about all that. Surely no one wants to feel sadness, grief, loss, but really and truly are we not just horrible, infantile sissies if we insist on only ever being grateful for perfect happy moments? Isn't there something gorgeous about feeling something so deeply and fully, even if it is a "bad" feeling like sadness?
I admit there is more than one kind of sad. There is the dulling, numbing, foggy sadness that feels more like nothingness. There is also the deep, sharp sadness that feels like a knife in the chest. And there's the total mind-fucking kind of sadness that is so hard and painful that everything goes white for moment, like an emotional black-out from the intensity. And there's the classic achy, mopey, drippy-eyed kind of sadness we all feel when we hear a sad song or flush a goldfish down the toilet. But there's more than one kind of happiness too. Calm, serene, warm spring sunshine happiness that glows and surrounds your whole self. Ecstatic, drunken happiness that is heady and dizzying. Quiet, secret happiness that feels small and special and private. Big, loud, belly-laugh happiness that makes you want to slap your neighbor on the back and buy the whole room a round of drinks. Too-much happiness that aches in your throat and makes your eyes sting and feels like too, too big to contain in one little body.
Little peaks, big valleys, sky-scraper-tall moments and dips in the road. I'm learning to be grateful for anything that makes me feel alive. I'm trying to expand my emotional repertoire as I expand my collection of travel-photo landscapes. I just saw the breathtaking Waimea Valley. It was huge and ballsy and red and deep and gorgeous. And I saw the pretty, calm stretches of the white sand next to the black, smooth lava rocks. I saw the inside of a huge cave with a pool of calm, topaz-blue water and the tiny little poor-man's-orchid with its pink perfection. Expanding my repertoire. That's what I'm doing right now. Becoming better versed at being alive.
I admit there is more than one kind of sad. There is the dulling, numbing, foggy sadness that feels more like nothingness. There is also the deep, sharp sadness that feels like a knife in the chest. And there's the total mind-fucking kind of sadness that is so hard and painful that everything goes white for moment, like an emotional black-out from the intensity. And there's the classic achy, mopey, drippy-eyed kind of sadness we all feel when we hear a sad song or flush a goldfish down the toilet. But there's more than one kind of happiness too. Calm, serene, warm spring sunshine happiness that glows and surrounds your whole self. Ecstatic, drunken happiness that is heady and dizzying. Quiet, secret happiness that feels small and special and private. Big, loud, belly-laugh happiness that makes you want to slap your neighbor on the back and buy the whole room a round of drinks. Too-much happiness that aches in your throat and makes your eyes sting and feels like too, too big to contain in one little body.
Little peaks, big valleys, sky-scraper-tall moments and dips in the road. I'm learning to be grateful for anything that makes me feel alive. I'm trying to expand my emotional repertoire as I expand my collection of travel-photo landscapes. I just saw the breathtaking Waimea Valley. It was huge and ballsy and red and deep and gorgeous. And I saw the pretty, calm stretches of the white sand next to the black, smooth lava rocks. I saw the inside of a huge cave with a pool of calm, topaz-blue water and the tiny little poor-man's-orchid with its pink perfection. Expanding my repertoire. That's what I'm doing right now. Becoming better versed at being alive.
holy shit, jenny (yes, patty said shit) you are so f'ing wise all of a sudden. or maybe i was just blind to it before. (couldn't bring myself to say the "f" word)
ReplyDeletelove you girl --keep writing - it's really great stuff.
patty