Sadness and Light

There are days when the sadness inside is like a pool as deep as the Dead Sea. Even as deep as molten lava somewhere within the earth's mantle — only it seems to have frozen and turned to basalt. It seems like everything has slowed down or come to a standstill.

I see you. I'm sending a ray of light your way. The light is all around — it's in the plate you'll wash, in sprouting lentils, in a regular exercise that repeats itself every morning, a five-second exercise no matter what it is. Light can be found. But it's also possible (and important) to simply be together in the sadness, in the darkness, and just to survive it — and from there, also to grow.

Together, both are possible. Let's examine why the darkness came, and listen to it: what is it actually asking to illuminate?