The Overflow

I’m ok with crying. I really am.  I’m a man and I say that with such confidence because I’m at a place in life where I know a tear has such reason, decision and compassion to it, that I want it to be seen. Well, I don’t want it to be seen, but it’s the only symbol to affectively communicate things unsaid.  It’s honoring.  It’s a way to say more than words can formulate.  It’s a way to communicate without putting letters and words and sentences together.  Tears say “I’m sorry," “Goodbye," “Not again," “I can’t handle this," “I can’t return to this situation," “You have to stop," “Please leave," and the list goes on and on.  It’s a way of showing there is connection with something deeper in you that you can even speak to. Up from that well comes cleansing and catharsis. Many times you can’t even put wording to the reason of the overflow that comes out of our eyes. 

This time it encompassed so many months in my own world.  This time it was a crying out because months of my life came to a halt all on one day.  One day.  It seemed as if my life was a train moving with no destination, but one day the train just stopped and every car toppled itself at the station.  The station was transition.  Transition being the future of new things, new people, new relationships, new atmospheres, new feelings, new thoughts, new struggles, new venturings for connections.  All new. There were tears because everything that was coming was all new.  It was all the things that were unknown. And the ‘all new’ weren’t even here yet.  I had to say goodbye to the old. It wasn’t easy. And it wasn’t if the old was going away for good, the old was moving from my world. My world was becoming the new, while the old made it’s way back to it’s old and a place that starvation had overtaken.  Yet, I wanted the old to stay, because despite the hellish living I was going through, the old was comfortable and oddly sustaining.  I was dependent on the old, cared for the old, wanted the old to stay and be present, yet I knew the old had to go, and like myself I wanted to go. My deepest desire was to molt the old.  But the old was eating me, because the old was starving, and it was starving me. 

It was the tears that washed the old from the new. It was the water that pushed the dirt away from my body. It was the cleansing that let me start afresh and anew. It was the waterfall that carved a new route, a new flow to new lands.