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Sometimes, we feel very down. Down and out. Depressed. So low that it seems this black hole we’re in is a never ending cyclone of despair, pain and anger.

All this negativity swirls, rising up to a crescendo we can’t bear to listen anymore. We close our ears, our hands pressed to the sides of our head, trying as much as possible to filter all of this out.

At times, though, it can be a calm sea of disappointment, a strangely soothing oasis of ire and anger. It is tempting to wallow in it, to soak ourselves in the pain and the sorrow.

After all, what is life without pain? Pain is one of, if not the very principle of life; to not feel pain is to be lifeless. You may be breathing, but you are not alive. It is one of the standard against which sentience is measured.

I may be wrong here, but the very deep meanings garnered in our journeys are usually made even more meaningful by the stumbles we take along the way. The punches to the solar plexus, the slaps to the face and the enziguris to …

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