When I contemplate this season, I think of the beauty and burden of light and its shadow. Sometimes I stand in the pathway of unexpected sorrow, and then, in the next second, a parade of happiness marches through, like an unreliable narrator who takes over the plot even before you understand the story. Navigating the transitions between these two emotions is treacherous terrain since there is little identifiable rhythm.
Recognizing the see-saw of sadness and joy is turning into a place I embrace instead of loathe. My acceptance reveals an undeniable truth: I am present, living all of it. The heartache and the hope.
This past Sunday, tears threatened, as I witnessed an ordinary moment in my life. I drove to the tennis court where my daughter finished practicing her serves. As she exited the gate, she didn’t notice my car hugging the edge of the curb. Instead, her head darted forward and backward and then she paused when her gaze landed on my blue car. Without hesitation she waved and sprinted toward my direction with a smile that brought me to tears. Her exuberance pushed me to acknowledge how fleeting these moments are of a little girl running to her mother. I took a deep breath, a metaphorical holding on and letting go, trying to make peace with my sorrow, but also sinking into the happiness of the moment.
For some time, I struggled with my tilt toward sadness, but now I realize this is what helps me look at the now of every moment. I know that sorrow is just as important as joy. This is the pendulum that guides my life and allows me to embrace both emotions with equanimity. It is, of course, not always easy. As I sink into a happy moment, the back story is humming its lullaby, “What happens when this goodness is over?” This question and my desire to stomp on it before it raises its hand is an ongoing process to remain present. I am not there yet.
With conscious effort, I strive to harness both sadness and happiness. The sadness is on the fringe always, but the joy, an abundance of it is hovering, like a guide leading me through the darkness. When I do experience this joy, I acknowledge it. In some ways I try to bottle it up, like a genie, calling on it in times of restlessness and anxiety.
This season. It is about catching the glimmers of my happiness – like my daughter’s laughter, to the beauty of boredom, to the quiet conversations that I have with myself while reading a book and that carefree feeling I enjoy when listening to my favorite song on the radio full blast while driving down the highway. These blinks are what sustain me and I give these moments greater gravity and feel them as they are happening in a way that was wholly foreign to me in my twenties.
The weaving in and out of sorrow and joy is the tapestry that allows one important opportunity: to be present in this season of my life.
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Being present is an amazing gift — one that I am beginning to realize that many people do not have or realize they need! I too revel in that moment when my son walks down the stairs at school , squatting to peek underneath the doorframe so he can spot me a little sooner! I know these days won’t last forever, and even if we’ll be battling over whether he will eat dinner soon enough, I just love that moment.
Sinking into now is a tremendous gift. I realize its power and try to incorporate it into my daily life. The practice of presence is what helps it flourish. I am learning that every day.
As always, great to see you in my space.
Beautifully described and I so get it. I find it hard to balance the exhaustion and commotion of it all without wishing it away because I know how quiet it will one day be around here. It’s a similar kind of balancing as you’re describing.
Nina:
Realizing that circumstances and emotions are temporary helps me appreciate the noise and the quiet. You never know when situations will change so it is crucial to enjoy the spectrum of all moments while you can.
Beautifully said. xoxo
Thank you, Ayala.
You said this so beautifully, Rudri. It seems we’re often on the verge on something. Amazing all the emotions we can go through at any given time…we humans are complex beings. Feeling is what makes us who we are, and sadness is every bit a part of the joy of the journey.
Yes, the weaving. Big exciting happenings for my daughter and one piece of sad news after another about my father. Up and down, that’s how I feel all the time lately.
I agree, Luanne. So much of a roller coaster – not knowing what will happen from one moment to the next. It is all so hard sometimes. xo
This is so beautiful, Rudri. Every word of this resonates. The twinning of joy and sorrow and the inextricability of darkness and light are important, if not THE most important, themes in my life. Thank you for this gorgeous evocation of a tension and duality I know so well. xox
I know my gratitude is coming late, but I am thankful that this piece resonated with you.
Dark and light – it is a universal that keeps threading its way through our days. xo
Rudri,
I just wrote something that echoes what you’re feeling here, although mine was not so eloquent. We are on the same page right now, that’s for sure. There is always light and dark. The trick is in finding the balance. xoxo
I agree, Kitch. So much stumbling, but hoping that it will ultimately lead to some solace. xo
AH, I could read this every day. Being present and aware of conflicting emotions, but ok with all of it, is a gift.
This may sound silly but sometimes when I see my mom, I do run to her with a huge smile because now that I’m a mother, I imagine she misses that I used to do it daily.
Thank you, Tamara, for your kind words.
Smiling more – that is a great way to sink into the present.
I feel your great courage in this post, Rudri. I know how hard it is to power yourself through overwhelming and negative emotions. This, in particular, really struck me, because it’s something I had (have?) struggled with for most of my life: “As I sink into a happy moment, the back story is humming its lullaby, “What happens when this goodness is over?” This question and my desire to stomp on it before it raises its hand is an ongoing process to remain present. I am not there yet.”
I’m glad you are noticing, savoring, and saving all the beautiful and happy moments. That’s a wonderful point, that we can call upon them during our weaker or more difficult times.
So glad that you can feel the pulse of this post, C. It has taken some time for me to articulate exactly how I feel, but the clarity is offering an unexpected abundance. xo
Lovely. The joy leading you through sorrow, the mixture of darkness and light…I often think of the need for them both–how the contrast of the sorrow makes the joy that much sweeter. And oh yes to that feeling of listening to music loud on the highway–is there anything better? xoxo
Thank you, Dina. They are both so intertwined and as I get older I understand my dependence to tilt toward joy and sorrow. xo
I struggle with that too. Great post.
Thanks, Tiffany. Appreciate your praise. xo