Sadness – Its Beauty, Poetry and Relevance to Business

I dont’t find it hard to be sad because I’ve nothing to be sad about but because I’ve bought into the story that sadness is a “negative” emotion, got good at cheering myself up to get on with things and have armoured myself against the losses in my own life in the process. This now strikes me as limiting as I want to live life to the fullest and that means looking in the sad dark corners too. I also want to be able to relate to others in distress and am aware that this isn’t possible without being in touch with my own sadness. So, an hour of music ballads later here’s a poem about sadness. If you’re scared of feeling blue or emotion in general you may want to give it a miss, pop a Prozac and get back to work.

The face of beauty hides under a veil

– not the woman of magazines and excitement

but a quiet lady who kisses your forehead while you sleep;

– not the beauty of fireworks and drunken revelry

but and wizened man in Spain, quietly holding his best friend’s hand.

What we can’t stand to look at

creeps up on us at night

and blinds us in the day,

to the suffering of others.

The pain I deny

waits like a wolf

to sink it’s yellow teeth

into the mango of my life.

It demands I visit it over and over

until the pain is as obvious

as a corpse in the market square.

And our sadness sings our love

bolder than blossom and poetry

announcing what we truly care about.

Our sadness whispers tenderness

like a bee kissing an orchid goodnight.

Rachel we didn’t know you would leap into the dark,

– I cried for three days and nights, as the rain came down, on the other side of the world

and I still can’t go over that bridge back home.

Jason you did what you felt you had to

and left us behind asking why

– a smaller family, that doesn’t dance to every song anymore.

Sally – at 16 I loved you like Spring loves the cherry trees

and each time I think of you now, with your Neruda and gorgeous baby Ella

I wish you well and my heart is crushed, like crystal quail eggs in a car wreck.

Even if I’ve learnt from these things

And it formed the man behind the tears

I’m still sad when I taste the salt on it’s kiss.

I’m still sad that my parents lost the love they had

I’m still sad I saw a nameless man bleed to death, while policemen smoked and joked over him.

I’m still sad I walked over children in rags on my way to breakfast.

I’m still sad I held my mother tight as spinal tap number XXX went in, and she shook in fear

I’m still sad that there were windows in São Paulo, broken with a loved one’s head,

and that there are windows boarded up in me today.

This is the other side of beauty:

Good things happen to bad people

my tears and snot and cursing wont change that.

And the tears and snot and cursing honour it all.

That lady at night I mentioned earlier

is kissing you goodbye

as she leaves you for another.

That old Spanish man

has traded his grandchildren for cancer

lying still in the church.

If you live long enough

everyone you love will leave you with your sadness

and that’s the price of admission

to life and to happiness.

…………………………………..

This blog aims to bring together worlds that are normally kept apart. How then does sadness apply to business today? I see the training world infected with the false smiles of “positive thinking.” I contend that his denial of the other side of life can get organisations in trouble. What part did over-optimism play in the current crisis? Can we question constant economic growth as an imperative – or are the downs OK as well as the ups? In the present climate many businesses, and perhaps more importantly many of their customers, are feeling sadness, loss, even despair. Do we have the courage to take time to listen to the messages within this and come out wiser? Can we keep connected to our humanity while laying people off or losing clients we need to take care of our families? Or are we just going to paint a smile on our faces and push through regardless?

…………………………….

So What: Sadness is good, personally and professionally