Someone else’s sorrow…

Sometimes, emotions just wash over me. There is no warning, there are no silent signs  – something rises from the depths of my old, battered soul, and takes over everything else, silencing the world around me; embracing me with warm, delicate, shuttering veil of remembrance. For an instance, there is nothing but a memory I wasn’t aware I had until that moment. Eternal cycle… families, relationships, love; wars, pain and suffering; beauty, awe and mind-shattering peace.

If I let go, at that moment I cease to exist. If I resist, it only pushes harder or goes deeper, and I know it will come bursting out with a vengeance until it cripples me; crushes me under its weight. I learned that it’s better to let it happen, to allow it to claim few minutes rather than eventually conquer my days. I also learned to observe it all as it happens, to find beauty in it; to be open to lessons those moments offer.

Emotional pain only exists because we resist the forces behind it; because we prefer not to face them; because we prefer ignorance. Lies are easier, the truth is shattering, but only if we hold on to that it is trying to shatter. Let go, and the world changes and expands beyond measure. Accept the truth, and the blinding veil of ignorance over our eyes dissolves to reveal at least some fragments of the world as it really is.

So I give in to those emotions. I cry or I laugh or I sit quietly. Can you let me be, only for a minute?

I understand these emotions are not me, but are somehow a part of me. I know I might not understand everything, and really, I don’t need to, nor do I want to. The mind wants to understand, analyze, observe and draw conclusions – the heart simply feels.

So, don’t worry if you see me cry. I am only letting it go through me – someone else’s sorrow.

It will not affect me, and it usually only lasts a minute, maybe even less. It only reminds me we suffer so much, from one life to the next, until we suffer enough and become ready for the truth to reveal itself to us. This is only a part of that process, a memory of something long gone, awaken by a word, an image or a sound. It’s not real, it’s not important, but right now, it is all I feel.

Can you let me be, only for a minute?