Let's not apologize for crying

Reimagining grief

Hey everyone,

A poem to share for today. But first, I want to acknowledge and thank five teachers who’ve helped me reimagine grief. My mother, Therese Jornlin. My mentor, Darryl Slim. And the books and talks of Stephen Jenkinson, Francis Weller, and Martín Prechtel.

In grief and praise,

Andrew

---

Why do we apologize when we cry?

We’ve got it all twisted.

Backwards.

It’s a big misunderstanding, people.

A terrible mistake that’s costing us dearly.

*

We tear up, talking about how mom died a year ago and I’m still feeling it, still missing her because she was my rock, my refuge, my mom, and the love starts to glisten and shine in our eyes, spill down our cheeks, and then we apologize.

“I’m sorry,” we say, “I still get emotional sometimes. I’m so sorry.”

*

Yeah, we gotta stop that.

*

Why do we apologize for our love?

It’s our love, isn’t it?

It’s our love that weeps.

Exalts.

Flows from us and to us.

Tears are the evidence

that we are connected enough to be moved,

that we are alive enough to feel,

that we are brave enough to reveal

ourselves.

Tears are an offering.

Medicine for our times.

The bridge we have to cross,

each of us, all of us,

to get to a joy we can’t yet fathom

from this side of the chasm.

*

Flip the script:

Grief is the most reasonable response to unreasonable suffering.

*

Try it out:

Crying is a sign of health, not a symptom of illness.

*

Imagine:

When I weep

I am not in hell.

I am escaping hell.

Tears don’t cause suffering.

They heal it.

Suffering is what’s happening right before the tears.

*

Our story about what it is to cry needs to change.

Or maybe it’s just that I’d like it to change.

I’d like to know

where we could go

with a different story

together.

*

A story such as:

Someone who is crying doesn’t have a problem.

They are solving their problem,

preventing what would otherwise turn into a problem.

*

Such as:

When I weep, I am with.

With you.

With myself.

With more of what is, what really actually is.

With the truth.

Because the truth is,

it hurts, sometimes.

Often, in these times.

And to feel that hurt isn’t a dangerous thing, if we have each other to feel it with.

Isn’t a pathological thing, if we have the courage to just let it be.

Isn’t a bad thing. An embarrassing thing. A disturbing thing.

Or maybe it is a disturbing thing.

Maybe grief disturbs what needs disturbing.

*

It’s a beautiful thing, I say,

to cry.

How about it, huh?

A generous thing.

A life-saving, life-affirming thing.

What if we knew that, as a people?

*

We are afraid to cry

perhaps in part because we fear others might be afraid of us if we do,

will keep their distance,

because our tears will call out to their own,

and they probably don’t want to cry,

so better not to cry at all, we think,

I’ve thought,

tried,

not to cry,

alone,

but I have cried alone, plenty of times at this point,

and I’ve come to rather enjoy it,

had a good sob sesh alone in the car just the other day.

Might have thought I was unwell, if I didn’t know better.

I’ve been held, too, in my tears,

by men who’d cried enough of their own to be able to hold me in mine,

by women who cherished me for my tears.

*

It’s good, to cry. Real good.

*

Who or what benefits from the story that tells us to choke it back?

Civilization as we know it, for one.

What else,

who else,

in you,

in me,

benefits from the suppression of grief?

*

New story:

It’s irrational to choke back our tears.

Dangerous.

Selfish.

How about that?

*

How about:

You are not a downer, when you cry.

Not killing the vibe.

You are resuscitating the vibe,

keeping it alive,

lifting us up,

inviting us

to witness

what love does, what love is, what love feels.

Maybe we will cry with you.

What a treasure that would be.

*

Let’s try:

It’s not “heavy.”

“This is heavy,” I hear us say, when we sit in circle and people start to share what they’re really feeling, start to let the tears flow a little bit.

Is it heavy, to cry?

Is that the actual feeling of it, or is that a thought we put upon the feeling?

*

It is heavy, what we carry, what we’ve been through, what we’re going through.

Extremely heavy.

But we are carrying that, before the tears.

That’s in us.

That’s what we bring to the circle.

To cry is to let the heaviness out,

is to bring it into the light,

is to lighten and be lightened.

*

How about that?

How about it’s a blessing.

Or if that’s too much, too far out,

let’s at least stop apologizing.

Let’s just cry, when the tears come,

and find out what happens next.