I receive an email this morning from a woman who can't stop crying. Her son Mitchell is in the hospital, and he is a trooper amidst what would put most of us under. She wonders when her tears will stop. I find myself in tears each time I read her postings and hear of what she is going through, and the tears are soft. Moisture fills my eyes, then rolls down my cheeks. When I was in chemo I saw my tears as kisses from the inside out. Marion Rosen says "Tears are liquid love."
I was in a workshop last week. One woman cried, and said, "Now the worst has happened. I cried before you." I sit with that now, hoping I am not violating confidentiality, but also wanting to share what I think many of us feel. We were somehow taught that it is "wrong" to cry before others. Sometimes I sit with how I was changed by last year's treatment schedule. I think I am more comfortable with my tears. They just seem to come, softly, as I say. I am not holding my scalene muscles to block them and hold them down. They come from my three minds, heart, gut, and head, and flow down, softly like new snow and spring rains. I think we need to cry. We have tears for a reason, and there is a great deal of reason to feel them right now.
Give yourself permission to allow a warm flow offered like prayer from the inside to the out.
