Coming of age was for me to a large extent a process of making peace with this sadness—and a deeper, fundamental anxiety that came with it. It was a long, painful, existential and—dare I say—spiritual journey. And in that process I paradoxically found what appears to be a sustainable source of happiness and meaning. The aching heart itself became the main engine of my life’s work. In its mature form, that solemn sadness extended. It became a sense of the tragedy of the world, of the suffering of others, and perhaps even more, an awareness of beauty lost, of potentials that never materialize.
