I cry, a lot. But it’s because beauty and joy move me to tears. I have learned that I don’t tend to cry in sadness. I’m very stoic when bad things are happening around me. Then, I hold back the tears, mostly from a fear that once they started, I would never be able to make them stop.
But when I read or hear or see something beautiful? Poignant? Touching? I’m a big old pile of mush. Seems like I’ve been finding a lot more beauty to cry about these days. I think its a good thing, but I wanted to write about it anyway.
I just wanted to say I think tears get a bad wrap. In my life, they’re liberating and joyful.
Ciao for now.