When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember the other is asleep upon your bed.
--K. Gibran
When I was younger, I parted ways by delivering false promises, sentimental cassette tapes, burdensome gifts, hugs and kisses. What is left for me now to give, when out of respect for freedom and the spirit of departure, I want to disentangle rather than beseech, to bid away cheerfully, and know that even the last, simple two of my goodbye rituals will become touches of forlornness and ambassadors for tears?
I have for some recent time been pursuing the friendship of change, to embrace it during our frequent encounters in life's various drinking halls. Sometimes we end up at the cafe, staring at one another over espressos, and all I have to say is silence.
I often wish these days I were departing on a trip, as everyone seems to be off here or there, and I have every excuse save for unemployment. But it has become increasingly clear my place, for now, is here, sometimes amid a warm and friendly familiar din and sometimes, like now, in a treasured quiet of my own making. Sometimes amid a bright and surprising joy and sometimes, like now, in sorrow.
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