I often receive wisdom and guidance in the form of wordplay, also called Conscious Language. And I often receive wisdom and guidance in the moment ‘for’ someone else which is completely, sometimes painfully, relevant to my own journey. This recent comment is both at once:
“The wisdom available for you from your body is not new wisdom or additional wisdom, but the release of wisdom already yours which has been blocked from your knowing by unshed tears over years and through dimensions. The tears, water shed to release emotion, are also tears, rips in the fabric of truth. As the water is shed the rips become whole.”
Such a global teaching, it just clamored to be shared:
Unshed tears as rips (tears) in the fabric of truth, Obscuring soul wisdom earned through the ages.
I am quite sure my personal experience is not unique. So many times in this life I have held back my tears. In early days it was to avoid unwanted attention from mostly family and sometimes friends who I believed 1) would not understand my pain, fear, perspective, 2) would try to talk me out of my feelings, 3) would want to fix me, 4) would somehow use the interlude against me. Later on the withheld tears were about not upsetting children, being labeled ‘too sensitive’ (whatever that means), not appearing manipulative, or not having a ‘safe’ place to let them fly, about always appearing unflappable and strong in my many roles to inspire a confidence in the world around me that I did not feel. To inspire, most of all, a confidence in my own strength that I could not really quite source. I was working, often multiple jobs, and raising stepchildren. I did not have the time to feel. Or the courage. I had not encountered or remembered my own soft strength.
Eventually I learned to watch movies or listen to music (by myself of course!) so that I could cry when it was convenient. I knew exactly which part of which movie and which song to access for the different flavors of emotion I wanted to release. Crying on demand. It’s not the same.
As our media has evolved into a delivery system for pain, fear, horror, and atrocity, I (along with the rest of the world) have hardened to the audio visual assault on my heart and senses. I have learned to live behind these walls to survive. And I have just recently realized, as I navigate a particularly stressful time, that I have developed a habit of quelling my emotional reactions in general, as I am blessed with an extraordinarily sensitive mate who is unpleasantly buffeted by them! And to avoid scaring myself as well. No more of this!
(These well constructed walls didn’t just keep out the tears. They kept out my joy. And quite likely my power.)
Our current science reveals a lot about the biochemistry of shedding tears and the emotional benefits of the chemicals released, concluding the act of crying for emotional reasons does release stress chemicals. Supposedly humans are the only known species to cry to release emotion, although some say chimps and elephants do, too. Common knowledge tells us that we feel relieved in many ways ‘after a good cry.’ It rectifies our internal landscape somehow, similar to the way lightning harmonizes polarized energies between land and sky. Clearly the process remains at least somewhat mysterious.
I went looking inside myself, oracle style, for the fullness of this truth, that ‘as the water is shed, the rips become whole’ and release the wisdom which is already mine to me in current time. It feels to me like my shedding of tears is a type of acceptance of what is, of the hurts and frustration, confusion and perhaps anger at seemingly unsolvable unwanted things intruding into my life. As I cry I give up the illusion of control and become softer. I tap a great, strong inner well of capacity to endure; a capacity that exceeds one lifetime or one reality. I become timeless in the moments of shedding tears. I become One with all the tears ever shed by humans on this earth. I open to the Divine and invite change. I take myself off line and reboot. I become more authentically me. If I allow myself to combine crying with some good wailing, sound healing occurs. I have found, with myself and my clients over many years, that giving sound to feelings is a great way to move energy out of pain and equilibrium.
Knowing that the fabric of truth, of soul wisdom, is just truly not served by withholding tears, empowers me to reboot my own habit of quelling my emotional reactions to spare someone else discomfort. Knowing I can literally reweave truth strands with my tears gives me more than enough courage to risk items 1-4 above. Most profoundly, I have found myself visioning about how our reality, our world, might change if we stopped withholding tears.
I know if I unintentionally responded to someone too brusquely and they cried, I would stop. Immediately. And reassess the situation, the interaction. Open my own heart and reflect and be fully present. Be willing to change.
I wonder what would happen if we noticed mistreated animals in our neighborhoods and even in our most sacred places, as I have seen in Delphi, Greece and at John of God’s village in Brazil, and instead of walking by we stopped and cried and took some action.
I wonder what would happen if the Speaker of the House announced news in Congress and the senators and representatives broke down and cried.
I wonder what would happen if the Guantanamo hearings were broadcast and all over the country people began to sob uncontrollably.
If we heard about the whales and dolphins being slaughtered in the oceans in a variety of ways and we cried so hard for so long that we just had to talk to everyone we knew and try to make it stop.
If the statistics about unemployment, rape, and starvation were met with real tears, open hearts, and willingness to give our time to make big changes in our society rather than blank stares, no comment, and business as usual.
I am reminded of a line from Melissa Etheridge’s song, Ruins:
But if I am to heal I must first learn to feel ………….in the ruins.
Perhaps it’s time to free our tears and heal some rips in our wisdom and truth. In the ruins. To cry ourselves back into presence and wholeness. To remember our own soft strength. To catalyze change in our world. Now. To cry ourselves whole.