Open the grave to sunshine

 We rarely accept love as the inevitable part of our life. We take it casually and lose it. Result: the old lovers becoming new enemies. A dark, sad cloud of pain settling on one’s soul. Then we do what comes naturally to us. We bury the pain to prove a point.

But once you bury the pain sadness settles firmly. Dark, festering subsurface air takes possession of your lungs; soaks your once fresh-aired vitality. In such moments, all we need is to unbury the pain and face its decaying corpse.

There is an art and craft of unburying the pain. Exhumation. To bring light to the maggots eating the rotten corpse. It is about digging a hole, emptying yourself of the rotten flesh. Dig, dig, dig. Unbury the coffin of pain. It’s a surgery of the soul to regain the rain, the sunshine, the fresh air, the open sky—the treasure.

You can’t add anything to a full vessel. The empty jar has the potential to receive. So dig a hole and exhume the corpse of pain, which would otherwise take decades to decay and still its bones will remain like sharp needles in the flesh of one’s soul.

Unbury. Pry it open. Lay it bare under the fresh-aired churning of the surroundings. It’ll disintegrate, scatter and spread out; no longer claiming you as the porter, the miserable carrier. It’ll break into tiny pieces and the inviting wholeness will absorb it. You—the empty hole—will then be filled with fresh prospects of joy.