It’s late, and I’m blog surfing… you know how that goes, don’t you? A long day at the office, tired from carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, worries about innumerable things swirling around inside your mind. You fall into your favorite chair and pull your computer onto your lap…and start surfing. Checking in with old friends that have been silent for a while….remembering blogs that inspired you way back when you first embarked on this writing journey…
And you read words like this…
But knowing who I want to be and knowing when I’m not living from that place can at times crack my heart. And that crack in my heart is often where my words come from…as well as my tears. What cracks my heart are the things that are important to me, the things I’m passionate about, and often our passion can bring our tears because there’s so much emotion and energy behind the passion. When was the last time you cried?
Oh, I used to cry a lot. At movies and commericals and concerts and dance recitals. At books and paintings and small children playing and birds singing and even flowers growing.
But I was so much younger then. I’m so much older now – and the tears hardly ever come.
I miss crying. That sounds ridiculous, I suppose – why should anyone miss the red eyes and stuffy nose that inevitably follows a good crying jag. But there’s something cathartic about crying- it cleanses the emotional system, like shaking the rugs in our senses, airing out the linens. After a good cry, you can pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.
Those italicized words up there nearly made me cry, and that’s no small feat these days. Fact is, the writer of those words probed a very sensitive nerve with me…”what cracks my heart are the things that are important to me, the things I’m passionate about, and often our passion can bring our tears.
Sitting here in my little study, curled up in my favorite chair, two small dogs sleeping contentedly at my feet, I reach over to the table beside me to pick up my teacup…suddenly, warm tears fill my eyes.
On that table is a photograph of a little boy dressed in a red sweater and denim overalls, a blue baseball cap on his head, an expression of joyful wonder on his face. A photo I snapped 26 years ago of my son, taking his first independent steps on the fresh spring grass in our backyard.
“These are the things that are important to me, the things I’m passionate about…”
If you have children, you know there is nothing more important than that, nothing that brings a greater sense of fulfillment, nothing that evokes more passion.
No writing, no music, no traveling, no nothing.
Children grow up much too quickly, and I think mine more than most (which is both a blessing and a curse). Thinking about my son as a child, thinking about him now as a grown man -well, that makes me cry when nothing else can.
“Our passion can bring our tears.”
Michelle, thanks for reminding me. It’s good to know.