I saw this lovely quote in one of @nelecluver’s post:

Each of us carries within a secret yearning - a yearning that, as time and life march on, often becomes a secret sorrow. That yearning will be different for each of us, as it is the most deeply longed-for expression of self. Only to the degree that we - each of us - are able to bring forth our own heart’s core will our lives feel fulfilled, truly worthwhile. ~ George Kinder

Secret yearning becoming secret sorrow. Wow. 

So powerful, yet so poignant. And so true, isn’t it? Our secret yearning, when unheeded, slowly decays into a secret sorrow. As children, we are all born optimists - curious, energetic, playful. All eager to explore the world and discover things we like, things we are drawn to. Curiosity turns to interest, interest to passion, passion to yearning. At least that’s how it’s supposed to work. 

But oftentimes, a wall comes up midway in that process, or a fork in the road where we were forced to take that led us away from that yearning. Adulting, or growing up, they call it. And as we diverge further and further away from that yearning, the distance makes our hearts sadder. We may not remember it, but our bodies, our hearts do. We live comfortably, we live well by any standards, there’s friends, cars, great food, nice house. But something feels off. You don’t feel much for them. You don’t feel happy, but you don’t know why. It’s like we developed amnesia. A past we’ve forgotten about. A chunk of memory quietly ripped out from deep within us that we’re not even aware of. Yet the yearning stays there in that dark corner, just unfertilised, un-watered, uncared for. Slowly, it fades, wilts, and decays. 

Yearning turns to sorrow.

For most of my adult life, I’ve always had this fear that I will forget this yearning. And indeed, sometimes I did. The days that followed were usually darker, sadder, harder. But think about it, that’s just another way that the secret yearning tries to send you a signal, isn’t it? If you follow the sorrow, it eventually arrives at your secret yearning. 

Knowing that, I feel more assured. And calmer in face of the darkness.

My secret yearning had never left. It had always been there. It’s just wearing something else, looking like sorrow. Follow the painful lessons, tip-toe past sleeping giants, leap across crocodile-infested waters, and there, my secret yearning stands there, waiting.

My secret yearning is also secret sorrow.