Occasionally, I’ll feel that I’m sad too often. It’s a topic that comes up with my therapist. I worry about my worrying. Am I too serious? Do I somehow enjoy being sad? Is it indulgent? Do I ingest too much from the hardships my close friends and family are experiencing? Or the hardships of my community? My country? Or from the numerous, ongoing global atrocities and horrors? My therapist tells me there’s only so much I can take on.
My life has not been immune from sorrows, but all things told, it’s a good life. I’m surrounded by wonderful humans, the various communities that I’m a part of grow stronger and more interconnected year after year, I’m safe, I’m healthy, and I have the immense privilege of making music regularly. And still, I’ll find myself in a state of heartbrokenness.
And then, every so often, I’ll understand these moments of sadness as a superpower — that my heart breaking, over and over again, is a strength. One of my favorite poets, David Whyte, said:
There is no sincere path a human being can take without having that imaginative organ broken.
When I read Susan Cain’s book Quiet, I was given language I didn’t know I needed about myself, the introvert. In one of her recent newsletters, she talks about the “transcender,” a term initially coined by psychologist Abraham Maslow and recently expanded upon by psychologist Scott Barry Kaufman. And once again, I feel pieces of myself unlocking.
Transcenders, writes Scott Barry Kaufman, are often “less ‘happy’ than the [conventionally] happy ones. They can be more ecstatic, more rapturous, and experience greater heights of ‘happiness,’ but they are as prone - or maybe more prone - to a kind of cosmic sadness…over the stupidity of people, their self-defeat, their blindness, their cruelty to one another, their shortsightedness. Perhaps this comes from the contrast between what actually is and the ideal world that the transcenders can see so easily and so vividly…”
Ah, cosmic sadness! Reading those two words together… truthfully, almost brought tears to my eyes, as on the nose as that is. Even writing this now, I feel my heart beating faster than normal. This new-to-me term is rapidly unlocking new paths of understanding. On first reading those words, I knew exactly what they meant. I felt it in my body. And importantly, I discovered a new lightness within my sadness.
Language is wild, isn’t it?! Language that hints at galaxies beyond language.
The photos above by Gary Gearhart are from a recent concert of mine that took place on a farm during sunset. I was staring at clouds and mountains and wild flowers while I performed. Children ran through the fields. Listeners were scattered around, sitting on hay bails or on the bed of a pickup truck (see the photo at the top of this post). It was truly a beautiful evening, and one of my favorite concerts in recent memory.
But let’s talk about these two photos above for a minute. My heart raced when I first saw them. Without the perspective of the rest of the audience, we are met with a scene that is both familiar and alien. I invite you to look at them again.
Why is there a piano in the middle of a field, surrounded by endless trees and mountains?
Who is the person sitting in the field, listening?
What is the relationship between the performer and the listener?
Why is there only one listener? Is this a private concert for one?
Is the performer aware of the listener?
What does the music sound like?
What story do you see in these photos? To my eyes, they look like paintings, the kind that fascinated me as a kid because they left so much to the wild imagination. Such as these — two paintings that immediately place me back in my childhood:
I can’t help but think about that little girl (me) who fell in love with art. These photos and paintings tell a story of longing and wandering. There is so much left unsaid. And yes, I feel my heart breaking all over again.
I’m working to shift my perspective. Can I now see heart breaking as a daily practice? What beauty and/or pain will I encounter today that will both crack me open and make me whole again?
I’ll leave you with this video, below — a time-lapse of a portion of said farm concert. I wasn’t aware of the setting sun while I was performing. All I remember is that I started with light, and ended with darkness. Watch through to the end for the delicious surprise! The sun teases that she is gone, but then returns, more magnificent than before.
May our hearts break and break and break. And may we be reminded through our heartbreak that we are on the sincere path.
xo
sophia
Coming Up
Troy Listening Room — Troy, NY
Friday, August 16
7:00 PM
A show at my house-venue in Troy, NY featuring Sam Torres and Daniel Kleederman. These shows are just delightfully fun. This line-up is killer, featuring two of the gentlest and kindest souls I know. Plus, they’re amazing musicians. Respond to this email if you’d like to come and need the address.
Round Lake Auditorium — Round Lake, NY
Friday, Sept. 13
7:00 PM
This is a big one, folks! I am SO excited to perform in this remarkable, historic space. I’ll be joined by special guest Nicholas Kopp (aka djdrummernk) who will perform an opening set and also join me on drums for a few songs. Plus, I’ll be debuting a special, new instrument… eek!
I really resonate and relate to this, I often find myself disconnecting because I struggle with balancing the feeling of sadness from everything and being able to alchemize it, and being unable to function under the weight of it all - but it's better to feel than not.
"I discovered a new lightness within my sadness." - as did I in reading this, thank you <3