every feeling is unique

Not just tolerating my children’s sadness but honestly welcoming it with reverence.

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Sadness, I am glad you are here. Sadness, you have something important to tell us, we’re listening with wide openness.

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Sadness, you are an honored guest.

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Sadness, I have no agenda with you. Stay for as long as you like. I am deeply relaxed and at peace around you.

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It hits different. For me and for them.

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And don’t get me wrong. A part of me rears up, agitated, impatient, disassociated.

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That part I label “living memory.” That’s what it is. It’s the part that is getting reminded of the past because something similar (maybe. definitely not the same) to what happened *then* is happening now.

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I ask it to step aside. I’m not interested in what I learned about sadness in the past.

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My past learning gets in the way of my deepest gentleness.

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I’m interested in this new, now, one of a kind sadness.

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Living memory is relevant maybe, but also unhelpful. But thank you, brain. This sadness will be different.

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*I* will be different with this sadness.