There’s something about trying to see the fullness of something that carries with it a strange sadness. It’s not a depression, and “it” is difficult to fully describe. It’s almost as if to know what is, you also end up seeing what isn’t, but also what could be. It’s the moment between the darkness and the dawn, where you almost hold your breath.

What I’ve learned, I suppose, is that there is always so much depth and beauty in the experiences that shape my life, and the moments that seem to pass in a flash. Behind knowing smiles there is heartbreak and joy. It’s the contrast that gives everything its color, but also carries its cost. The opportunity then is to proceed with compassion. To know sadness and joy, and to realize that things are always just so much… more… than they seem. It should mean that I think before I speak, that I treat others not only with kindness, but also gentleness, and that I hold loosely to my expectations, and enjoy the depth of each moment.

I don’t think it’s a concept I fully comprehend yet, and maybe I never will. What I think is there’s a strange sadness in knowing. This sadness makes things, deeper, more complex, but also fuller and more hopeful. Perhaps it’s a place of peace, and a place for growth. I think in the fullness of things we can find great strength, and great opportunity to know love.

How are you looking at things? Do you seek to see the fullness of what things are? Are you willing to know, be sad, but also be full of hope? How would it change how you approach conflict, others, and conquer your own challenges if you saw with depth? How would you love if your knowing smiles were full of joy, but also knew sadness?

I often run from discomfort and in that I try to make everything simple and controllable which creates a great deal of chaos. Perhaps in hopeful sadness I can also find rest.