When I feel sady, my joy is rekindled, because my sadness and my joy are
one and they are many.
My sadness is the clear cold light of the rising moon fed on the glowing
embers of the dying sun.
It contains the joy in my soul the way my veins hold my lifeblood in my
body.
It is the bland rice to the spicy curry that sustains my existence.
It is that moment of silence between two  notes in the symphony of my
universe.
It is the implosion that checks the explosion of my heart.
My sadness is a stranger to that ugly modern impostor called depression.
Depression is the faded foliage of a sickly plant, the sputtering of a
choking engine, the cloak of anger turned on itself.
I welcome my sadness because it hones my mind, sharpens my vision, pulls
and tugs at my heart-strings and reminds me that I am still alive.
My sadness and my joy are one and they are many.
They are the yin and the yang, the flip and the flop, the flip-flop of the
eternal dance of my Lord Shiva.
My sadness is the tear that flows when my cup of joy spills over.