The path and the well

There is within each of us a well, deep and dark, walls of moss, and dark murky waters below. We walk past this well most days, sometimes not even noticing it is there. Maybe we have placed a large wooden cover on it, padlocked it behind a fence, perhaps it is overgrown with weeds. The path through the woods takes us onto sunny vistas and wind swept fields, it doesn't go past the well anymore.

Today my path has brought me to the well, and I have slipped in. Down down, like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Into the dark place of sadness that inhabits us all. Suddenly everything is dark and the light seems so far away, so unattainable from the bottom, from the sharp rocks and the still, dead water. I want to cry and cry. Perhaps by filling my well with tears the water will slowly rise to the surface and bring me into the sunshine again. For now, I sit quietly at the bottom, frogs and lizards grazing my arms and legs. I don't have the energy to contemplate the long climb up the well to the surface.

Perhaps if I rest here a few hours, a few days, I will learn the value of being sad.

In the meantime I listen to Mercedes Sosa.