What if sadness were not a state we need to overcome as quickly as possible –
but an inner space that shows us something essential?
On some days, exactly that happens: we pause. Not because we have to, but because something within us asks for it. One such day was for me in February 2026 – an impulse day centred around farewell, sadness and new paths. Not a loud day. Not an explanatory one. But one that worked above all through words that resonate.
"People whom we support give us stability in life."
A simple sentence. And yet one that can bring tears. Perhaps because it reminds us: stability is not one-sided.
Whoever carries, is carried in return.
Whoever accompanies, does not walk alone.
In a room, people move slowly; some stop, some settle inwardly at the edge of a path. The question is: Where are you right now?
No analysis. No goal. Just perception.
"Dare to stand still."
And sometimes something unexpected reveals itself: a part of us that was left behind. Exhausted. Forgotten. Perhaps from an earlier farewell.
"What if a part of you is still sitting on a bench at the side of the path?"
What if we stopped ignoring this part?
If we didn't push it forward, but went back to collect it?
"What is it like when you now hold this part close to your heart and take it with you?"
In such moments it becomes clear: moving forward doesn't always mean going faster.
Sometimes it means becoming more complete.
A fairy tale tells of a tear fairy. A child receives everything – wealth, beauty, success. Only one thing is missing: the ability to cry. Only as an adult does she receive this gift. She cries for days. And from every tear a pearl is formed.
"Tears cleanse our heart."
What if we believed that again?
If we didn't wipe away tears, but honoured them?
"Sadness is not a glitch in the system."
Perhaps it is a sign that something wants to be seen. Something that is love – but currently has no place to go.
Sometimes insight begins not in the mind, but through movement.
Shoulders rolling.
Hands shaking.
Breathing.
Noticing.
"Thank you, dear eyes. Thank you, dear tear glands."
Gratitude towards one's own body feels unusual at first. And then surprisingly healing. Everything is connected: emotions, hormones, muscles, tears.
"It is remarkable how everything is connected."
What if we approached ourselves with this same matter-of-factness – not functionally, but kindly?
Even everyday topics suddenly take on depth: eating. Habits. Stress.
"We don't always eat out of hunger."
And further:
"Self-compassion is more helpful than self-reproach."
What a thought.
Instead of an inner vicious cycle, an virtuous cycle of mindfulness, gratitude and forgiveness.
"Sometimes a single grateful line in the evening is enough."
A mantra sounds through the room. Quietly. Together.
"Please forgive me. I thank you. I love you."
Some words only unfold their power when they are not explained, but experienced.
At the end, music. Dance. Slowly at first, then more freely.
"A crust falls away."
Not because everything is resolved. But because something is flowing again.
One sentence in particular stays with you:
"Grief is love that doesn't know where to go right now."
What if we looked at sadness in exactly that way – as an expression of attachment, depth, relationship?
Then it would no longer need to be hidden.
Then it could be part of our inner landscape.
Places where such encounters are possible remind us how valuable the diversity of inner and outer experiences is.
More on this can also be found in the article "Power of Diversity" at the Haus der Begegnung (North of Germany):
👉 https://www.haus-der-begegnung.net/post/kraft-der-vielfalt
What if we didn't want to get rid of sadness,
but instead listened to it?
Perhaps it wouldn't hold us back.
But rather – quietly, honestly – show us the next step.