But suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, I understood
the theoretical possibility of experiencing the “sweet” not weighed down with
the “bitter.” Just for a moment, mind
you, but long enough to completely upend me.
I don’t think there’s any doubt about it. I’ve been addicted to the bittersweet. I have always assumed that steps forward
would be accompanied by steps backward.
That happiness had an alarm clock wired up to it (“OK, girl, you’ve got
three minutes, grab as much as you can before uncertainty returns.”) That
dreams coming true would always be accompanied by homelessness or poverty. Passion would always be accompanied by
rejection or solitude. Accomplishment
would always be accompanied by crushing debt.
People who were pleasant on the surface were rage-filled underneath, etc.
A lasting, unadulterated sense of joy, love, happiness or power was literally
inconceivable, and so, of course, because you cannot experience what you cannot
conceive of, I never experienced them. Indeed,
it was my impression that bittersweetness was a universal reality – I looked as
reference at all the people who die two weeks after they retire. Fall in love, then receive a cancer
diagnosis. Work like dogs to get a
little bit ahead, then receive a huge medical bill.
And much of our literature is based on a poignant, “tragic”
construct, from Romeo and Juliet to The Gift of the Magi. Some of our most potent religious beliefs twin
the bitter with the sweet. And look at
creative masterpieces of art, music and drama.
My favorite composer? Herbert
Howells. Hello? Has there ever been music more wrenchingly,
achingly, gorgeously, bittersweet?
Years ago, I tried to articulate my own life
philosophy, to frame things without traditional language. I’m proud of my efforts and process. But let’s just say that, even there, in what
I hoped was a new idea, I could not conceive of “joy” that was free to float
upward without a tragedy “tether.”
We are human. We
are always going to experience what Abraham-Hicks calls “contrast.” It is an inevitable part and parcel of being
on this planet, and it is necessary to spur desire, creativity, and growth. But what I don’t think I understood until the
other night was, energetically, how different pure joy is from bittersweetness.
Even one fleeting moment where I didn’t wait for the other shoe to drop
was enough to have forever changed my landscape, both inner and outer. The freedom was breathtaking but so powerful
that I could see why most of us quickly grab for the nearest dead weight! Books make it sound easy to focus on the positive,
but when bittersweet is the highest experience you’ve ever had, you don’t
really know what pure positive is.
What this one moment will mean for life going forward,
I don’t know, but it has sure thrown me for a loop. I am thankful for it, though,
and for the new, higher perspective it will surely bring. 