Do you cry? I cry too.
Do you cry? I cry too. And sometimes, I may embarrass you by crying in a public place. (Don’t worry, doesn’t happen that often. Except in church or social gathering)
I cry at movies that aren’t even remotely sad. I cry after listening to a seriously brilliant song for the first time. I cry while reading books I’ve read for the tenth time. I cry when I pray — really praying and not just coming up with words. And if I haven’t cried for a long time, I will purposely watch anything that will make my tear ducts burst. My from-the-gut-sobs are forms of expression and release that I cannot live without. No, I am not being sappy here crying is a lifestyle I have come to adopt.
Tears serve as my sort of truth sifter. There have been times when I suddenly sob over something and I don’t understand why or how the trigger is connected to my life. I just know it’s real. My tears tell my I’ve stumbled upon something that’s true. And that makes me pay attention.
Have you noticed that crying clears your head? At least it does for me. It is achieved by two actions: crying strips off some of your analytical processes and pulls your thoughts to one central direction. When that happens, you feel like you’ve been transported into a new horizon and your old is gone a new you is born, at the same time. Giving myself wholly to the act of crying provides you a different perspective and yet some sort of objective distance. Or maybe it’s just me. I don’t know how do you feel?
Perhaps what I’m just saying is don’t try to shush me too quickly when my eyes start to brim — you might rob me of an epiphany. As with all things in moderation: crying is healthy.
Grieving with no tears is no grieving; you have to lose in order to gain, next time you see someone crying offer your shoulder for them to lean on
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