I awoke early this morning. It was night outside, yet a bright moon, barely beginning to wane, was shining in a clear sky and the mountain ridges stood silent and still, unwavering, all around. The mood of the weather had changed completely from the storms of the day before. The festival days had passed and the riotous holiday makers had returned to the distant city. Stillness and silence had returned to this place.
Then it started: something began to tickle me from inside. It was subtle to start with, at first evoking a mere hint of a smile. But it was gently persistent. A little twitch in my belly. And then like a dam bursting the twitch turned into uncontrollable convulsions. It was a silent laugh, resonating with the deep silence of the moment. Yet resonate it did, a belly laugh the like of which I have not felt for months, going on and on in waves until the sky lightened with the coming dawn.
Now that the sun has risen and the birds are singing in tune with a glorious day, I know that something has healed in me. I don’t know what. I don’t need to know. The great sadness that has been in me for five months or more is no longer there. And that is the magic of life, the alchemy that can turn sadness into laughter and joy.
