Shedding Tears

My wife and I have been married 30 years now, and the last time we checked, our auras were almost identical. And yet we’re very different. Her goal is to cry less; mine is to cry more.

Tears come to her easily and often. Sad movies. Sad songs. Parting from relatives we may not see again for a year or more. Random acts of kindness. All these things bring tears to her eyes.

Me? When I was a boy I cried a lot. Now, hardly ever.

Breathe in, breathe out.

A woman I know said she would choose joy over enlightenment. I can respect that. We know what joy is and it’s pretty cool. Enlightenment is more mysterious.

Beyond emotions?

I don’t think that’s it. I’ve been beyond emotions (or pretty close to it).

The great thing about my wife is that she feels things. Deeply. I know sometimes she wishes she didn’t. But I love her for it. Everyone does. For her, it’s frustrating to have the words she wants to say get stuck in her throat. She’d like to have more self-control than that. But I think tears say more than words sometimes.

Still, no one wants to be a slave to their emotions.

As a young boy I cried over things like striking out in baseball. The ball was small and hard and I was afraid of it. Afraid of failing, too. When it was my turn at bat I would just stand there. Finally a classmate said, “Just take a swing. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

Good advice.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I learned not to cry for silly selfish reasons. In fact I learned not to cry at all. Almost.

A few years ago I cried uncontrollably when I thought I was going to lose my job. As it turned out I kept my job while others lost theirs. Then I began to think of them as the lucky ones ...

The most enlightened people I know are not beyond emotions. They feel joy and sadness, but are not controlled by them.

By not crying I appeared to be in control of my emotions, but I was not free. I was controlled by them in a different way.

I cried, for the first time in a long time, during an initial energy checkup at the Dahn Yoga center in our neighborhood. My aura changed dramatically. I don’t really remember what the headmaster did or what all we talked about, but I came out feeling a lot of compassion. For others and, surprisingly, for myself.

Since then I’ve learned that a new friend at the center carries in his wallet a picture of himself as a young boy.

“It reminds me that I need to take care of little Louis,” he says.

At times, Louis explains, he has denied himself things he wouldn’t keep from his worst enemy.

When I finish writing this I’m going to find a picture of little Freddy (my nickname as a boy).

Breathe in, breathe out.

Lately I’ve allowed myself to cry more. I cry listening to Sting sing “Fields of Gold” and watching the romantic comedy “Love Actually.” I cry rubbing my wife’s hand in yoga class.

“While you are crying, watch yourself,” the headmaster tells me. “Ask yourself why you cry.”

Good advice.

“When we purify our emotions we can cry less,” she says. “When we have a deeper soul's connection we will cry more.”