Tag: connections

The Gift of Sadness

We need not fear it

Photo by author

I’ve noticed how difficult it can be at times to simply sit and be with someone in their sadness.

It can be hard to see someone struggling, especially someone that we care about. It’s hard to see their tears, feel their pain, and to be with them in the darker parts of being human.  We are drawn to want to help them feel better.  I know that I can fall into that pattern as well and have to try and catch myself.

Maybe their sadness also reminds us of our own struggles, pain, and grief.

And so, well intentioned as it may be, we may try to distract them, ask them about something positive, try to help them see things differently, tell them that this too shall pass, or relate our own sad story and how we got through it.

But what if we just sat beside them and listened, perhaps put a hand on their shoulder for a moment, and let them know we are there beside them, caring, hearing them, seeing them?

We are not taught to be comfortable with all of our own feelings, to honor all of them and not just those that may feel more pleasurable.  And if we are not comfortable with our own feelings, it’s also harder to be comfortable with someone else’s.

I think that sadness can be a gift of being human.  We feel, and that’s a gift. And to feel sadness can mean we have loved and lost, or that we have lived and been bruised by life in other ways…. and to then share that with another is to expose a very tender and vulnerable part of ourselves. Sharing that vulnerability can create more depth and true connection between us, as we acknowledge each of our fragile places inside and treat them tenderly and with love.

I was watching a TV program the other day as this soulful singer performed “What Makes You Sad” ( Nicotine Dolls/ Sam Cieri.)  When he sang the line “Tell me what makes you sad”, that question went right to my core.  I could imagine someone asking me that, how that would make me feel that they wanted to really know me on a deeper level.  As the song continued and the camera showed members of the audience, I could see others reacting as well, especially women, holding their hands up to their hearts.

Think about it…. If I ask you to tell me what makes you sad, what does that touch inside of you? 

I have a dear friend who frequently asks me, when we talk on the phone, about what good things happened to me that day. I appreciate that he wants to know that, but there are times that his question may shut down where I really am emotionally at the moment, as I get the message that he only wants to hear the positive experiences. And so that’s what I share.  But it inadvertently can create a bit more distance rather than closeness. And he’s not someone that I would likely call when I’m upset and need to talk.

Life has joy and pain, laughter and tears, and much bittersweetness. It’s all part of being human, of who we are and what we go through on this journey.  How sacred it can be to share all of this with each other, to acknowledge our pain and broken pieces, and to realize we are in this together and can offer each other understanding, comfort, and love.

Maybe we can begin by hearing our own sadness, by really listening to our hearts and asking ourselves… Tell me what makes you sad… So then we will know the answer when someone asks us, and can more deeply hear their answer when we ask them.

An Uber Ride with Benefits

No, not THAT kind of benefit!

Photo by Austin Neill on Unsplash

As I continue my walk through this land of elderhood, I continue to be surprised by the random gifts and moments of shared experiences and smiles that can come from such unexpected places.

The other day, I had just dropped my car off at the dealer to get it serviced and was waiting for an Uber driver to take me home. I slipped into the car, said hello, and we were on our way.

These rides can be so unique. Some drivers are quiet, some quite talkative, and some seem to try and sense how you are. This was a man who told me that he had just dropped off his son at school, his son being 13. Oh, I said, the start of the teenage years! He laughed, said yes, and said that his son was a good kid. 

He asked what I had planned for the day.

This is such a different question for me since I have retired. I did have plans for the day, but they are certainly different than what I might have said when working, or when running errands on weekends. Do I tell the truth? What will that sound like, I wondered? But, since my goal is to live more authentically these days, I told him that I was going to be doing some writing and some painting. 

To my surprise, he seemed delighted with my response. Really, he asked. All that? And he then went on to share that he also loved to paint and to write. As he told me more about himself, he talked about having worked in many different jobs in his life, such as a firefighter, a paramedic, and other different positions. He said that his primary goal was to spend time with his son while he grew up, to be able to be with him as much as possible and to not spend too much of that precious time to any one job. He talked about his son with such love and tenderness, and how happy he was that he had made this choice. As a matter of fact, he went on to say, he and his son had talked about selling a lot of the stuff that they had accumulated in the house so that he could continue spending more time with his son (like coaching his sport teams) and went on to say that he could continue to work at odd jobs to make money to pay the bills. 

It was such a delight to hear his story, how much heart he had in the decisions that he was making, how happy he was to have this time with his son, how he had no regrets about his choices and how he hoped that he would be a model for his son when he had his own children. 

Here was someone who was living their values to the best of their ability, who was walking the walk and not just talking the talk.

I shared a bit about how, since I had retired, I now had time to do the things that I loved, such as writing, painting, walking in the redwoods, taking classes that I enjoyed, and relishing in solitude when I needed it. I went on to say how I thought that it was wonderful that he was doing this now, not waiting for retirement, to live his life, to enjoy his family, to make choices from his heart and figure out how to make those choices work.

He seemed to be pleased with my comments and encouragement. And I loved being able to be an elder at that moment and let him know how wonderful I thought that what he was doing was, how he was really thinking about what was important and then building his life around that, how he was being as true to what he believed in.

A ride of a few minutes turned into an instant connection. By the time I got out of the car, we both talked about how pleased we were to have met each other. And when I gave him a tip and told him to have a coffee on me, he smiled and said that in fact, he had not had a chance to have his coffee yet that morning and was delighted to have a coffee on me. 

Here it was again, I thought. A random moment of connection that changed the course of my day, that made me smile and helped me feel as if I had touched souls with someone for a moment in time. It didn’t matter that I would most likely never see him again. What mattered was that moment in time that we shared. That understanding and affection expressed between total strangers made a difference, I think, in both of our days. I know that it did for me. 

There are surprises and gifts everywhere, sometimes in the most random places and when you least expect them. I am reminded to be open, to breathe into each moment and see what might be offered there, and to cherish each gift in this precious time on earth. Each moment can contain a lifetime, an eternity, a grace, and gift, now that, as an elder, I am slowing down enough to see it, hear it, feel it, and be in it.

These moments are what I often remember that make me smile. And isn’t that the point of it all? To smile, to connect, to share, to love, to hold each other’s hands while, as Rumi wrote, “we’re all just walking each other home.”