On Joy and Sorrow

In search of a little bit of inspiration this week, I reread a few passages from Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet – and then realized that this week was the 89th anniversary of his death on April 10, 1931.

Most people have probably come across Gibran’s work without even realizing it – The Prophet has 26 different poems dedicated to love, marriage, children, clothing, and more. They are commonly quoted at weddings, at graduation ceremonies, and funerals alike. Gibran was a Lebanese-American poet, who moved with his mother from Lebanon to Boston at the age of 12. A teacher there introduced him to Fred Holland Day, who first showed Gibran’s art work when he was just 21 years old. Over the rest of his adult life he studied in Paris and New York, and he wrote The Prophet along with a number of other books. He died at just 48, due to cirrhosis and tuberculosis.

There isn’t much really known about Gibran, and what is known comes largely from a series of diaries kept by Mary Haskell, his benefactor and literary collaborator. But I found great solace from rereading this passage in particular:

On Joy and Sorrow by Kahlil Gibran

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

In a time where so many of us are experiencing such sorrow – the loss of loved ones, the risk our family members are taking on the front lines, and the uncertainty of tomorrow – I hope you can find some space for smaller, unexpected joys. Today, I’m thankful for the giggles from my kids, the satisfaction of finishing a puzzle, and a good cup of coffee.

-Reshma