The Bittersweet Beauty in Melancholy

There is a certain kind of indescribable sweetness in sadness.

Not the kind of sadness you become a victim of and mope around in feeling sorry for yourself. It's the kind of deep emotion that can feel incredibly alive when you let go of control and let it envelop you, that I'm speaking of.

When you surrender into it, and allow yourself to dissolve there like a tear into the ocean, it feels so much bigger than you. It can feel as big as the universe, and that's comforting to me; to remember that no feeling is exclusive to me alone. And at the same time, to be connected to something so vast reminds me that I am not as small as the container of my body.

This kind of melancholy is like a frequency that sweeps through everything on some level, and sometimes we tap into it. It's only frightening when we resist it, when we try to run from it, and ignore the fact that yes, there is pain in the world, and yes, the pain exists inside of us too. No one is exempt.

But it is not bad like many of us were taught it to be in Western Societies. It's expansive, powerful. When I walk into the frequency of melancholy, I get the exquisite sense that it somehow holds within it both extremes of love and pain, dancing and weaving around each other, blending into one.

It demands me to stop. Stop getting distracted by the flurry of movements in the world and remember the truth at the core of it all. The stillness.

Somehow, on these days when I feel the richness of melancholy present in every cell, I simultaneously feel my heart cracking open, wider, wider and revealing the eternal love that rests there. Ever-present. Infinite. Divine; only because I've also been visited by its extreme opposite in pain.

Pain to me is simply one experience inside the spinning wheel of yin and yang. The dark side of the moon. And melancholy, when I surrender so deeply into it that all the toughness of the world drops away around me and I'm just present, in the gentle embrace of something so vast it has no name, is a portal into deeper expanses of love. Plains of love so wide they disappear far beyond sight, beyond reach, yet somehow, exist inside me, all within the sensory reach of my heart.

It is so fine. Like dust. A light mist drifting through still air. I breathe it in and remember that nothing matters but this aliveness in my heart, and the interconnectivity with everyone, and everything in existence.

Melancholy is one of the veils we must pass through to drop back into the grace of oneness that knows both love and pain, and neither one of them at all. The oneness that leads to the sense of both nothing and everything at once.

Pain is the force that pushes us deeper into facing ourselves. Into healing. And ultimately, into Love.

Love is the fabric of everything. The blank canvas upon which we dance.

With Love,

Sita X