Today there has been a sadness in me. The opening line of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice comes to me:
In sooth I know not why I am so sad
For me, when sadness comes, it often has this mysterious aspect. There is a heaviness of the heart without any obvious reason.
Sitting with this sadness I notice some of its sublime qualities: It brings with it a certain stillness, an unhurried-ness. And there is something of a delicate fragility, a tenderness. Staying with it, I sense its depth; how far into my being it reaches, or rather, from how deep in my being it emanates. It carries a dignity and a calmness. Although an urge to escape from it might arise, there is the feeling that in itself it is incorruptible. It is one of the faces of truth.
Namaste.
