Anne’s of the world in joy & suffering

“I hope no great sorrow ever will come to you, Anne,” said Gilbert, who could not connect the idea of sorrow with the vivid, joyous creature beside him, unwitting that those who can soar to the highest heights can also plunge to the deepest depths, and that the natures which enjoy most keenly are those which also suffer most sharply.”  ~ Anne of the Island, by L.M. Montgomery

“The natures which enjoy most keenly are those which also suffer most sharply. “

This little phrase of insight is spot on. I think very often those of us who are happy, positive, outgoing, taking every opportunity to drink in life’s beauty, are seen as a perpetual pillar of positivity. Does anything really penetrate that positivity? Maybe, but they bounce back so quickly, they must have a shallower heart that doesn’t ever really break with pain and hurt. They’ll continue on their merry way, regardless of the outside world.

This perpetual “light” inside of these souls is exactly what enables them to pick up the pieces and carry on forwards. But the existence of said light does not mean there are never dim days when the fog sets in and we simply crouch down nice and low, waiting for it to clear. Perhaps “crouching and waiting” isn’t an accurate description – it’s a bit more like tearing wildly through the trees in panic because the light has faded. We know it’s there, somewhere through the trees or over the next hill. We continue madly on, until we’re out of the fog. No, it’s not like those of us who trip, falling over a root, and are too hurt to move forwards, and instead suffer the dark & dank alone in stillness and pain. But the suffering of one who feels heights of joy and beauty, will be as sharp as the joy and beauty is uplifting. Perhaps it won’t last as long, because we aren’t capable of sitting still in pain, or even moving slowly. But moving through it doesn’t mean it’s felt any less keenly. If anything it rips harder at you as you struggle to push, pull, and yank yourself through it to find the light. Perhaps it’s not a physical pain, not even a mental one. It’s more often then not an emotional pain. These beings feel so keenly in happiness and love. Just as the fog sets in to cloud vision, it’s typically an outside force that affects the heartstrings, because the care from these hearts for others is deeper then most people care to understand. It’s a different type of suffering then those who battle the bleak & blackness. It’s a suffering not many people can relate to. Which is O.K. The Anne’s of the world don’t need others to relate to their suffering. Yes it helps when you find a kindred spirit to unload your heart on, but the concern the Anne’s have for others will always triumph over their own suffering. The light will always be past the fog, and more often then not the madly wild race through the fog will land you back in the open brightness. Their hearts don’t shatter. Their hearts fracture, over and over again as they rip through the bushes. And in the end their hearts are stronger for the fractures, tears and rips. They heal, though the scars are there for good. They are fragile, like every heart, which I think is sometimes overlooked because of their solid nature. But the ability to see and feel the sunset in their very soul goes hand-in-hand with their ability to suffer deeply in a way that others don’t quite comprehend. And the beauty, peace and tranquility in the sunset always makes up for the difficult road to see it.