the inverse of joy

is sorrow. I think. or maybe, does joy have no inverse? — the way that they say: love has no inverse, but attachment does — I’ve been thinking about joy a lot lately — having met people in my life who tell me: joy is my compass. I seek joy in all that I do. and I realize that… I don’t. I don’t seek joy. I don’t intentionally look for those sparkling, glittering highs as much as they do (maybe I should?) instead, I seek truth. beauty. and extreme depth of feeling. all kinds of feeling — including the shadowy ones — even if they suck.

yesterday, after dinner, we biked across the rice paddies and watched the end of a sunset over a lake. the pink clouds made the water look like a whiskey grapefruit drink. near the far edge of the lake, the surface sparkled like champagne fizz. closer to us, the water was dark and metallic, like liquid silver.

I felt joy. but maybe I also felt sorrow — knowing that I will never see this again. maybe sorrow is always on the other side of joy, just as death is the mother of beauty, and that you can only know kindness as the deepest thing, once you’ve known sorrow as the other deepest thing.

maybe, to truly cherish a person, place, or thing — a house, a city, a moment — it needs to be seared into your mind the realization that this will never happen again. at least, not like this. even stupid, ordinary moments will never repeat itself in this movie of your life, so. I hold it in my hand, for just a moment. and then I let it go.