Broken
Half a year after he stopped smoking he felt a sudden sadness. A sadness that persisted. It’s good he said to himself from time to time. It’s good to be sad, unhappy, melancholic and even depressed for a day or two. The false consumer happiness was his enemy anyway. But what did that have to do with consumers?
It was frustrating. Every hour or so he sagged onto his couch or bed and closed his eyes. This was tiresome. Where was his unbroken passion for life, his energy and yes: his enthusiasm for everything? The noisy optimist in him felt dusty.
None of his friends said a word. He just seemed to fade out of their expectations. He even felt boring and that was the last thing he wanted to be.
In his notes he found an expression that shocked him: Sea Of Sadness. He had written it himself and it sounded like drowning in a greenish lake full of leeches.
How could he shake of that yoke? That’s how it felt. Like an ox dragging along. Was it a gene from his Scandinavian forefathers and -mothers. The darkness of winter, a frozen soul? He had never lived there.
What really saddened him was that there was no reason for his ongoing sadness. It was like a dirty luxury. And he couldn’t stand sulkers anyway. And pictures of Tsunami victims. Or sorry orphans. Or the haunted of the war in Kongo. Just feeling for them, he thought, was ridiculous. We either help them or we leave it. That was his attitude. He never liked mourning. Too sensitive. Who wanted his tears? There were too many anyway.
And then one morning he had a sudden understanding. The sadness he felt was universal. Not unlike the weltschmerz of puberty but with no self pity. It was the sadness of a father as he was one. It was God who shared his sorrow with him.
He lifted his arms and felt the warmth of the morning sun in his face. And then compassion started to wash his broken heart.
Tags: broken, enthusiasm, father, love, sad, sun, weltschmerz
