The Importance of Sadness

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What if I told you that the way to change the world was not to be bold, resolute, brilliant, or even compassionate? What if I told you that the way to change the world was to be sad?

It sounds so improbable. When we think of those who have taught us the most about meaningful change, we think of people who are very, very brave, say, Martin Luther King, Mahatma Gandhi, The Dalai Lama. Unwavering. Deep. Devoted to others and willing to die for what they believe, quite literally.

How do you get to be such a person?

Well, I have no idea, but I would put money on the idea that the ground, path, and fruition of their lives is sadness.

When you look out at this world, what you see will make you very, very sad. This is good. You are seeing clearly. Genuine sadness gives rise, spontaneously, naturally, completely, to the wish—no, the longing—to be of benefit to others. When your wish to help is rooted in love (i.e. sadness), it is effective. There is no question.

But because it is so uncomfortable, we immediately want to turn sadness into what we imagine will hurt less: anger, hopelessness, helplessness. When the wish to help is rooted in anger, it will only create more confusion. And of course, when we feel hopeless or helpless, we take refuge in non-action, which also creates confusion.

Meditation teaches you to relax with the discomfort of sadness and stay with it, not turn it into something else. At this point, you can lay claim to your brand of helpful activity (whether it takes the form of activism, leadership, charitable work, making art, prayer, and/or simple, basic kindness to all).

Despair is what happens when you fight sadness. Compassion is what happens when you don’t. It will not feel “good,” it will feel alive and this aliveness is the path to bliss.* So the key, and this is a big one, is to learn to stabilize your heart in the open state. The practice of meditation is this stabilization. It is so much more than a self-improvement technique, as I’ve said 100 zillion times. It is a path to peace. It is a path to love, not the sappy-silly kind, but the real deal.

You have a soft spot. Contrary to popular belief, it is not where you are weak, it is the gateway to indestructible power and that is what The Open Heart Project is all about. Please take on your meditation practice for the benefit of all. My purpose in life is to help you do this, so don’t hesitate to ask questions, report your experiences, express doubt, and offer encouragement to others.

If you open your heart, you can change the world.

Thanking you in advance, on behalf of all beings.

*I once heard from a student of Tibetan meditation master Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche that when asked what bliss felt like, said, “To you, it would probably feel like pain.” So there’s a little clue, something to think about for this and all our other lifetimes. But I digress.

For those who would like to practice, here is a 10-minute session.

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35 comments

  1. 1
    debra { 03.17.11 at 7:42 am }

    It is, I think, that which enables us to see and feel the sadness, that also enables us to feel compassion and to see the incredible beauty on this planet.

  2. 2
    Susan { 03.17.11 at 8:26 am }

    I am in complete agreement, debra.

  3. 3
    Malwina { 03.17.11 at 8:28 am }

    I don’t like it when you say this. There’s this part of my that says “No! You Buddhists are all wrong, it cannot be like that, there MUST be a way to get it RIGHT, do everything well, be good, feel good, have nothing in my life but happiness, beauty, joy, peace, love, comfort, security. Stop it. Why would I voluntarily open myself to sadness and pain?”
    Then I try to imagine that world I believe in, where I’m in charge of my life and everything is wonderful, and I realize it looks like an over-saturated image from a commercial, full of fake plastic props and void of any depth.
    There is another part in me that knows, the way to peace is not running away from the pain, but letting it be.
    It’s just that most of the time I’m really really scared to do that. Again and again I take refuge in my illusion of a perfect plastic world in which there are no problems, even though it inevitably leads to depression, fear and self hate.

    I’m curious if you intend to write more about the sadness, I would love to read it. Maybe I’ll dare to open myself to that idea at one point…
    Thanks so much for your inspiring work.

    • 3.1
      Susan { 03.17.11 at 8:33 am }

      I am totally with you on this, Malwina. I don’t like it when I say this. I want to run away.

      There is a line in one of the chants we do, “Grant your blessing so that I realize the inseparability of samsara and nirvana” which I think is a way of saying that joy and sorrow, happy and sad, delight and discomfort are all pieces of one cloth. Believe me, I do not understand this. At the same time, I know it’s true. It’s an ongoing investigation, that’s for sure.

      Thank you so much for taking the time to respond. It means a lot. And I’m sure I’ll write more on sadness. It is a favorite topic! For the pith insight on it, see Gloria Steinem: (paraphrasing) “When you’re depressed, nothing has any meaning. When you’re sad, everything does.”

  4. 4
    Diane D'Angelo { 03.17.11 at 8:33 am }

    “Despair is what happens when you fight sadness.” I had to go through this twice before learning another way. Our culture discourages the genuine heart of sadness, but I see changes occurring and, for that, I am grateful.

    • 4.1
      Susan { 03.17.11 at 8:34 am }

      Diane, I am grateful too. xoxo S

  5. 5
    Nancy { 03.17.11 at 8:36 am }

    What you have written about sadness is so beautiful. I’ve been on the cushion for the 3rd week and feeling so sad this week.
    Thank you for your light.
    Warmly,
    Nancy

    • 5.1
      Susan { 03.17.11 at 8:38 am }

      What an excellent sign, Nancy. I know it doesn’t feel “good,” but your sadness is such a beautiful sign of opening. And, if it helps, please remember that you are not alone. There is a brethren/sistren of sad warriors all around. xo S

  6. 6
    Jackie A Flaherty { 03.17.11 at 10:46 am }

    Wow. Very profound. Thanks so much for sharing.

  7. 7
    Carin { 03.17.11 at 12:32 pm }

    Susan, life is such a paradox. How opposing states can arise at the same time in the mind and all is ever embedded in pure awareness. I think, over time it can be possible to be completely comfortable with “not knowing.” We can’t really wrap out mind around consciousness. All we can do is admit that this is happening right now. I often do not try to put a label in my various states. I only know then, “oh, this is different now.” I experience that all vanishes and self-liberates eventually. That does not mean that the pattern will never rise again. If the conditioned mind arises with with new waves of sadness, which I do not try to label perhaps… then I tell myself, “see I practice THIS again… ” To observe THIS MOMENT of NO DURATION is then my practice – not apart from anything else, including perhaps bliss.

  8. 8
    Terry Hartley { 03.17.11 at 12:40 pm }

    Despair is what happens when you fight sadness. Compassion is what happens when you don’t. My brother just died on January 16th. I have been navigating a new path that includes that fact of my life now. It has been difficult but after many deaths in my family I have come to realize that allowing grief to engulf me is the best path for my journey . Thank you for this post–I am just getting to the point when friends feel like “time to get on with life now” as if grief follows a timeline. I truly believe that as a culture we need to find a way to feel comfortable with grief and all the expressions of it. I mean that in the gentlest way.

    • 8.1
      Susan { 03.18.11 at 8:10 am }

      Terry, I’m so sorry for your loss. A few months is certainly not all that is needed to “get on with life now,” at least not as I imagine it. Please be gentle with yourself and also toward those who find your pain uncomfortable. It is so human. Wishing you all the love you need to navigate this sorrow. Love, Susan

  9. 9
    kathleen { 03.17.11 at 1:21 pm }

    Thank you for this post, Susan. I have recently been working my way through bouts of depression and am starting to see the light – and the amazing thing is that through all my times of despair and doubt I very seldom cried, I just felt numb. Now as I emerge into a place of peace I find myself crying on a daily basis – they are tears of sadness, and faith, and wonder and joy – because our world is filled with so much beauty – and when we open our eyes to ALL of it, something magical happens.
    Thank you for your words of insight and inspiration, Susan.

  10. 10
    Pamela { 03.17.11 at 1:33 pm }

    Hi Susan,

    I totally agree with your sentiment that sadness is to be trusted not avoided, however this part of your post gave me pause:

    “When you look out at this world, what you see will make you very, very sad. This is good. You are seeing clearly. Genuine sadness gives rise, spontaneously, naturally, completely, to the wish—no, the longing—to be of benefit to others.”

    With the tsunami in Japan, devastation of war, and poverty & hunger epidemics around the globe, it is easy to agree with your statement. However, I am not sure that I do. As someone who believes in a higher power aka “God” for me (and to be honest I’m not sure if Buddhists ever do…so this could be the crux of our different perspective right there) I am fully aware that my perspective of the world is, and always will be, limited. As a result I am not in position to look around and make judgments of good/bad/right/wrong…My task is to simply to see things as best I can for what and as they are. Love what IS. And while surely sadness can be and is a motivator for generosity and goodwill towards others, surely that is not the only way, is it?

    I’m still working through these thoughts and ideas myself, but thought I would add my two cents. ☺ I love your voice and have gleaned much from your blog and words. Thank you Susan !

  11. 11
    Anne { 03.17.11 at 2:53 pm }

    Running away from sadness is all to familiar. I really needed to read this right now. So thank you, Susan for continuing to inspire me.

  12. 12
    Lindsey { 03.17.11 at 4:09 pm }

    I adore this. Adore it. I write often of my own melancholy and sadness, and very recently posted that I’d choose to live with a broken heart, aware of everything around me, than in any other way. People always ask, “are you okay? what’s wrong?” and my answer is an awkward, stuttering … yes, I’m fine! Better than fine! Nothing is wrong (I don’t think!) xoxo

  13. 13
    Anna Guest-Jelley { 03.17.11 at 7:56 pm }

    “Despair is what happens when you fight sadness. Compassion is what happens when you don’t.” So lovely, Susan. Thank you! xo

  14. 14
    g { 03.17.11 at 11:43 pm }

    some parts of this seem to make some sense, others definitely don’t.

    first point: you baldly state that you ‘have no idea’ how to become someone like Martin Luther King, the Dalai Lama, Gandhi, etc. In other words, you have no idea how to become a really good person. If this is the case, anything you have to say on the subject of becoming a better person is meaningless. Odd, because this seems to be the subject of your article.

    secondly, there is your claim that ‘genuine sadness gives rise, spontaneously, naturally, completely, to the…longing—to be of benefit to others’. Another bit of utter nonsense. People who are clinically depressed are ‘genuinely sad’. Exactly how are they of much benefit to others? Have you thought about this at all??

    • 14.1
      Susan { 03.18.11 at 8:08 am }

      g, thank you for your comments. these are simply my thoughts and i confess to remaining quite confused about how to become a really good person.

      also, when it comes to sadness, i mean something different than clinical depression.

  15. 15
    Rupa { 03.18.11 at 1:28 am }

    Your using the words, “sadness” and “love,” interchangeably resonated with me, Susan. I am a new hospice volunteer, encountering an overwhelming abundance of both sadness and love surrounding each dying patient. I’ve noticed that sadness and love are indeed indistinguishable.

    Thank you for stepping forward to teach.

  16. 16
    Don Poilievre { 03.18.11 at 5:29 am }

    This writing has brought a bright light into my thinking process and it goes hand in hand with my thoughts of the Tao!

    Merci Beaucoup!

  17. 17
    Susan { 03.18.11 at 6:20 am }

    You are very welcome, Don. So glad to hear it.

  18. 18
    Liz C. { 03.18.11 at 8:05 am }

    So true! This just fits so well with my experience this week and I am really deeply appreciative of the reminder and that you created such a clear, articulate statement of it that I can go back to when I need to be reminded again.

    I also LOVE the quotation at the end about bliss – was this something Chogyam Trungpa said? Or his student? Just curious. Oh, that amazing Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche – so wish I could have met him.

    Thank you so much for this project! Living in a city with no Shambhala center, this is an amazing opportunity for me.

  19. 19
    Susan { 03.18.11 at 8:18 am }

    Liz, so glad you enjoyed the post! The quote was something Trungpa Rinpoche said, according to one of his students. I would have loved to have met him too…

    Thrilled to hear that The Open Heart Project is of use. It is meant for someone exactly like you, who may not have access to a Shambhala Center. This makes me very happy!!

    Keep me posted…

  20. 20
    Marianne { 03.20.11 at 1:52 am }

    Sadness has certainly been the doorway to my own open heart. Thank you.

  21. 21
    My Courageous Life { 03.21.11 at 3:31 am }

    This post resonated with me. Thank you for sharing it.

  22. 22
    Lichens { 03.24.11 at 6:54 pm }

    Terry, thank you for sharing your brother’s death with us. I lost my brother to suicide almost 25 years ago…and my response was definitely one of numbness and despair. Any touching experience (weddings, heartwarming movies, a gesture of love) would ambush me, swamp me with grief, which I then tried to run from. It took being on the path, and the tragic death of my dog, to find the courage to finally keen and wail. For everything. For all of it. For the love, the pain, the grief, for having been touched by so much and so many.

    I am so impressed by your realization that “It has been difficult but after many deaths in my family I have come to realize that allowing grief to engulf me is the best path for my journey.” What a liberating thing to know. Grief has no timeline, and no statute of limitations. My guess is your friends are uncomfortable seeing your tender open heart, and they don’t know what to “do”. That cultural “sign of weakness” is really the mark of true courage. My heart goes out to you. Thank you.

  23. 23
    Susan { 03.24.11 at 7:28 pm }

    Lichens, this is all so beautifully said. Thank you so much. Love, S

  24. 24
    judy green { 03.29.11 at 11:01 am }

    thank you, susan, for these meditation lessons and for the actual meditation. even when we’re on travel we can tap into the instruction. with appreciation. peace.

  25. 25
    Cheryle { 04.13.11 at 1:21 pm }

    I knew from an early age that life would be bittersweet. All throughout adult life I lived with a ‘knowing heart’ and it has helped to keep me open to the ups and downs of life. At times, one can learn these lessons at an early age and that knowledge can often give you a different perspective than your peers.

    I enjoy your wording and expressive style, Susan.

  26. 26
    Susan { 04.13.11 at 5:36 pm }

    Cheers to being born with a knowing heart.

  27. 27
    Daniel { 05.10.11 at 4:38 pm }

    I was hoping for a little help with this. I am often sad, and come to tears quickly. The smallest of things, arising mainly from the woman I love, are the cause of this. It is almost as if my thought patterns spiral, and I take pleasure in my grief. Or as if I want to feed my insecurities, and sub-conciously find, and love, people that do this. Maybe I am creating beliefs to try and find the cause of the problem, I’m not sure. But I would appreciate any thoughts or feedback on the matter. Regards.

    • 27.1
      Susan { 05.11.11 at 2:17 pm }

      Daniel, not sure how I can help, but it sounds like you’re well down the path in your own exploration–asking the exact right questions. The questions themselves are extremely valuable. Good luck!

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