02 October 2015
I think that, at the end of it all, underneath the routine, throbbing in ancient lamentation, is Sadness. I think that there is a feeling of Sadness everywhere you go, even in the happiest moments. The world is a very sad place. But I don't mean that to be depressing. I don't think all kinds of sadness is bad. And the kind I am talking about is not the kind of sadness we feel when we see a man put a gun to his head. I mean a bigger kind of sadness, big and quiet, like the silence of a mountain rather than the silence of an empty room. It's a sadness that encapsulates the whole world and sinks beneath our skin deep within the marrow of our being...the sadness we feel in our happiest moments, when we hear a piece of music so beautiful that you can almost feel your heart cracking under the weight of the spell, detached from consciousness and submerged in the swelling waves of sound, the lilting strings and rumbling magnanimity, stilling your soul like soft thunder. O untouchable beauty, lift me into your embrace. But still, the beauty looks back at you, and you feel shame, you feel your own imperfection, and you know that this beauty does not belong to you. The more beautiful the sound, the more you see just how ugly the world is--how un-beautiful and un-musical it is...and how we are forced to live in it and become a part of it. And then the Sadness, Sadness that your world is not beautiful, sadness that you cannot lift your spirit out of it and into the beauty that the music invites you to follow. I need more than happiness. O Holy Spirit, set me free.