Words and Tears

Holiday grief—that uncanny ability of our heart to understand that loss knows its seasons. On Thanksgiving Day, as I searched my kitchen cabinet for a can of pumpkin I knew was hiding somewhere in the shadows, I discovered Rufus’ jar of treats. I must have pushed it to the back of the cabinet when I didn’t want to deal with its evocative memories. But the discovery of that jar—the feel of it, the sound of its clasp being released, the smell of those Trader Joes peanut butter biscuits, the memory of his thundering paws, the jingle of his collar and his joyful wag of expectation—instantly and viscerally re-wound time. I completely lost it . . . and strangely . . . felt grateful for the tears. It makes me wonder why we call tears, "losing it?" Perhaps, instead we should call those wordless wonders, "finding it."

Given the choice between words and tears, I think I’d choose tears. I have to search for words, tears just happen—they’re honest, unfiltered, and now.

---

My heart is full even though there are cracks. It seems that abundance is not the result of leak-proof vessel but rather is the result of an unlimited resource that is only limited by my ability to be open to it—love. It’s not a commodity that can be stored up, hoarded, traded, purchased or stolen because it is completely free . . . for everyone, everywhere, all the time! As it turns out a closed and self-contained container becomes stagnant and ultimately diseased. The cracks and holes of my heart are the places that create movement and allow the flow of healing if I remain open to the infinitely abundant liquid miracle called love. 

LOVE does not require a giver, but it’s beautiful when it’s given. LOVE does not require action although its presence will always move us towards justice. LOVE does not require an occasion but the gift will always be remembered. LOVE does not require perfection but will always encourage us to be better.