in joy and sorrow

Does anyone else with 12th house planets feel like a stranger here on Earth? Everyday since I was 8 I sit in solitude and wonder if my souls incarnation here was a mere accident.  I float through life, like a ghost.  I see everyone and everything indulging in the human experience.  The joys, the sorrows and ups and downs that make a human life grand.  Suddenly in the last few months I have come to terms after an entire life of looking for home on Earth, there is no home here for me.

I always dream of the far away places where things are more advanced then this.  This is more value to life then consumption, ownership and the “self.”  I miss home….and home feels like a place I can always go to grow my mind, and share my compassion and there is no ego; no more concern with what I get in return or what is waiting for me in the future.  There are just moments to feel comfortable without feeling empty and dead inside.

Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place.
—  Rumi
And we see Carey, inconsolable at the unceremonious death of her best friend. She’s in her private quarters with her girlfriend Killian…
—  Griffin McElroy, completely destroying my heart with one swoop
My favorite thing to hear as a writer is that I’ve moved someone to tears.
In me, too, many things have been destroyed that I thought were bound to last forever and new ones have formed that have given birth to new sorrows and joys which I could have not foreseen then, just as the old ones have become difficult for me to understand.

I woke three times in the dark predawn. First in sorrow, then in joy, and at the last, in solitude. The tears of a bone-deep loss woke me slowly, bathing my face like the comforting touch of a damp cloth in soothing hands. I turned my face to the wet pillow and sailed a salty river into the caverns of grief remembered, into the subterranean depths of sleep.