It is rare for something to be a single thing. Something close to you may be sad too. I’d like to take it out of life sometimes, my own and others’ so there would be nothing missing at all. I know compassion means being with another’s suffering, sometimes your own, and that is not limited to proximity. I may not be able to perfect my world or anyone else’s. And yet something sad can be with something lovely: the sadness shows you how you care for it; great indifference to me feels like a kind of death, and care a channel of life and timelessness. I don’t have to forsake a thing to remove sadness and I know that connection is a warmth that also sweetens and transcends sadness.