Gift of Tears

Since Love and Emptiness are not-two, I feel our tears before they begin, before the world looms into view, the world that is just about to break our heart.

These are the tears of that world, crying out, weeping for itself in the midst of the suffering it brings on itself again, and yet again.

In this, and even in a way that we can’t say, these tears are a gift we grant to ourselves, a gift of salty water streaming down, pouring across our own cheeks in the face of all that we have inflicted on ourselves, the inexplicable sorrow we blindly recreate again and yet again, the everyday horror.

I feel you poised here, just on the brink of tears, swaying on the precipice of a cliff from which the whole wild display is visible — a palpable, pulsing panorama of joy and sorrow, hope and regret that somehow make us human, that make us laugh and cry and ponder why.

And no, there is no final answer. We really don’t know — we only feel it. We feel it, and the more we feel, the more we are capable of feeling, until it all coalesces into one single thing.

This thing we can’t name — is it living? Is it dying? We really don’t know, but only feel so profoundly that we are moved to tears, the tears of a whole world crying out for itself, weeping in the midst of the suffering it has brought upon itself, again and now again.

In such suffering we burn, before the mirror we cry hot tears, but can our tears ever burn through to the end of grief? Perhaps the great gift of tears is found in the recognition that there is a secret joy hidden in our sorrow.

Can we summon the courage to allow ourselves to feel so deeply, so completely, that we begin to awaken beyond our fear to that joy breathing there, silently, patiently waiting for us to reclaim our original innocence?

When we can allow such guileless vulnerability, life and death cease to threaten, cease to be the source of any anxious grasping or avoidance. Here and now, in the midst of our tears, the only question is: can we accept such a gift, how much will we let in?




About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have a number of blog sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: Essays on the Conscious Process: Compiled Poetry and Prosetry: Verses and ramblings on life as it is: Verses and Variations on the Investigation of Mind Nature: Verses on the Play of Consciousness: Poetic Fiction, Fable, Fantabulation: Poems of the Mountain Hermit: Love Poems from The Book of Yes: Autobiographical Fragments, Memories, Stories, and Tall Tales: Ancient and modern spiritual texts, creatively refreshed: Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: Thank You!
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2 Responses to Gift of Tears

  1. “guileless vulnerability” – exquisite wordsmithing – thank you Bob. The way sorrow and joy reveal themselves as identical energies is truly wondrous. Such Grace…

    • Bob OHearn says:

      Isn’t it just so fascinating, Sister, how it all does reveal itself, as well as its source, and how, the more we open our feeling being to receive that revelation, we are filled to overflowing with such unspeakable grace? Thank you for your generous receptivity!

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