(Written in January 2006)
Woke without fear, but sad. Huge sadness — that life is sad and everywhere full of pain. Interestingly I don’t feel despair — and I see that despair, hopelessness, is different from sadness. I accept that I may be carrying this sadness for the rest of my life: sadness for the traumatized baby inside me, sadness for all the wounded babies, sadness for the whole world, sadness for all the pain we humans inflict on each other and on other species. I hold the sadness gently, knowing I won’t leave it.
This feels like the longest January on record. Woke neither sad nor scared, but tired. So amazing. Such a big shift. And yet I don’t feel very different. Still sad, not joyous. But I don’t feel wrong to be sad. This IS my choice, to stay with this task, and not leave it for some illusory promise of “happiness” that’s based on denial. What’s gone is the irritation and impatience with myself for still being scared, sad, tired, etc.