I am sitting here, finally facing the empty page again, with soft waves of sadness gently lapping through me.
I don’t know why. My mind could come up with many explanations: that I was touched in hearing from a friend and knowing how much gut wrenching pain she is in right now; the news I heard on the radio about the unfolding horrors in Syria; someone I love very much who is losing her baby right now; reconnecting with the young part of myself who felt (and feels) helpless, alone and lost in a bewildering world…
But right now, I am not interested in following any of these threads or dwelling on them. Life is just sad at times, very sad. Just as it is beautiful and rich. Just as it is complicated and unfathomable. Just as it is infuriating. Just as it is filled with wonder. Just as it is tedious or stuck. Just as it is like this.
Not attempting to find reasons, explanations or solutions to any of it, is relaxing me. Muscle after muscle loosening its grip, lowering me so gently into this ocean of sadness which – in being welcomed – is surprisingly soothing and held in an enfolding peace.
Fanny's Blog 
This resonates. Whilst this third age has brought me love and peace (how vapid those words together look in print – but there are no others) in greater measure than ever before, I have also at times never felt so sad. As you specify, both the particular and broader consciousness of lachrymae rerum bring it about. And yes, as a broad, still body of water it can be a balm. Shades of Virginia Woolf: ‘The melancholy river bears us on. When the moon comes through the trailing willow boughs, I see your face, I hear your voice and the bird singing as we pass the osier bed. What are you whispering? Sorrow, sorrow. Joy, joy. Woven together, like reeds in moonlight’. (The String Quartet’)
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That’s a lovely piece by Virginia Woolf. And thank you Dick. Love to you…
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So lovely and tender in its simplicity…
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Bless you for sitting down and facing the empty page… your simpleness, gentles and inspires me. I have been crying about not writing much or lately. There’s a few pieces trying to be pushed out… just that every day I run out of juice. Love and appreciation to dear you.
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i was feeling it too, the not writing… and the more i didn’t write the more i couldn’t write… and then i just wrote something. Thank you for your appreciation, it is so warming; I hope you find the juice to write, it may give you juice to do so. And you are writing aren’t you? all your delightful haikus…
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Beautiful Fanny and touches me in my sadness today…just letting it move, like a slow low tide.
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Dear Fanny. So thanks for your gentle reminder just to stay home and feel the sensations of whatever. I too have been v sad recently and my mind is so quick to try and explain and sort it out. Simpler and more alive to really feel it. love to you xxxx
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thank you dear Jeannie. lovely to see your comment pinging in as i sit here, and reading what you say connects me in to a soft grief which once again, I had been unconsciously pushing away! I love how we can remind each other of what is important…
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I’m sitting now, and thinking. What else? What else I have to experience. I feel fall aparting. Again, again and again. What else? How long I have to feel my powerlessness to get my power?
My mind is fightin, as always. Hi is screaming, no, no that’s enough.
My soul is waiting, patientli. She knows, that it is next waves.
My body is tired.
Dance of between.
Thank you Fanny ❤ ❤
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Beautiful. Thank you Fanny.
I have been holding away from feelings for much of the day, and shortly before reading your blog I connected with them resting in the arms of my beloved. There was deep grief there, and like you, I know not where it truly came from. And yet it was such a relief to let myself feel it. To let the tears have their way.
I love the simplicity of how you wrote about your experience. Reminding me of how simple this can all be when I let it.
sending you much love xxx
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