A Storm of Tears

I watched a film last night called August Rush. It's about music, trusting in one's self, following one's heart with great courage and wisdom. It is a profoundly moving film. When the film ended, I was overcome with feelings which I could not name and so began a storm of tears and the releasing of emotions that I had held within me.

I cried because I was so moved by this film and because, although he loves music, I knew that my husband would never watch it - he would consider it a 'chick flick' and would thereby shut himself off from it. So, this magnificent creation, the film and the music presented within it, will probably never be experienced by him. I was angry with him for stubbornly shutting himself off from such beauty, even though I invite him, time and time again to share these sorts of experiences with me. He shuts himself off from a lot of things that are beautiful, that bring joy, inspire love, invite celebration of life. As I love him, I accept his choices. As I love him, I wish for him all that is good in the world. Time and again, I see him turn from ease, from joy, from beauty, from laughter. And this is not easy for me.

Have I told here of the terrible sensation I have lately, that I am living in heaven on Earth while my husband lives in a hell of his own making? How can I bear it? I bear it by taking responsibility for what is my experience, allowing him to take responsibility for what is his experience, and releasing storms of tears when the discrepancy between our two worlds becomes more than I can take.

There is a great benefit to me in this storm of tears, for these releases are necessary. Yet they weary me. I feel like a wet rag this morning. The challenge is to come to acceptance of what is, even when it seems to break our hearts. As we move forward through these unprecedented times we will find our own pace and our own rhythms of being and becoming. Now more than ever, our own truth must be our guide through the unknowns that lie ahead. No one can do this for us. We cannot do this for anyone else.

In a very real sense, we are alone on our journey, yet there are fellow travellers visible through the mists and veils of colour that surround us. I treasure the company that I keep as I progress. Yet sometimes, I move in a different direction than one whom I had counted as close. Distance then seems to separate us, a distance that seems too great.

I wonder what will become of my relationship with my husband. There. I've said it. I move further and further along a path that he has no interest in exploring, much less the will to endure its twists, turns and hazards. So, Lu, here is yet another opportunity to practice trusting, to breathe and accept. And when these are not enough, a storm of tears erupts and cleanses, like one of those thunderstorms that come in the summertime and wash out all of our roadside ditches.