I had a dream of a moment in a forest, no-one around, just me and the trees. No birds, just the whistling of the wind though the leaves. Living the moment without yesterday, without a tomorrow. Breathing the air, and just be….
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, “Joy is greater thar sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
On Joy and Sorrow
This post, and my thoughts, are with all human beings suffering from a depression.
I can only try, but never imagine, how hard it must be, when even the simplest things become difficult, that it hurts to get out of bed.
How hard it must be, that love ones around do not recognize it as a dangerous illness and keep telling to just do it and stop whining…
But I know one thing. It does not matter how hard it is, how dark everything is, there is always light. You may not see it yet, but it is there, for the change of dark and light is the way the world goes. Without sorrow there is no joy, without pain no happiness, and without dark no light…
There was a dandelion,
With lovely, fluffy hair,
That glistened in the sunshine,
And in the summer air.
And oh! This pretty dandelion
Soon grew old and grey,
And, sad to tell! Her charming hair,
Blew many miles away.
Soon old and grey, I like that one! A little reminder, that we will be old and grey too, and no matter, how dark all days sometimes seems to be, all this is going to be left behind one day…
- What Those Poor Misunderstood Dandelions Can Do For You (alternativemedicineandherbs.com)
This is a dying flower,
living it’s last.
All days of glory past,
fragrance only a memory,
the radiant color fading.
And yet she seems,
to be in peace with it,
just allow her petals,
slowly loose their hold,
one after another,
But, in the evening of her lifetime,
her beauty is still undisputed.
a raving beauty of old age,
does not lie in makeup and surgery,
spoken words not demanding regret,
hands which sent good forth,
and a sincere heart with God.
when evening of life,
is at my doorstep,
that I can face it with dignity,
accepting what cannot be delayed,
ready to receive my book,
with peace in my soul.