Nothing Makes Me Feel More Alive Than Tears in My Eyes

For decades, I bottled them up — these days they’re free-flowing liquid gold to my soul

Take a few seconds to examine the above image. What do you see? And how do you interpret it?

Regarding the first question, you’re probably thinking, “Isn’t it obvious — I see a tear dripping from someone’s eyelid and an image of two people kissing in an eyeball.”

Yep, I grant you — that’s apparent. The more interesting question is: What do you think is the connection between the tears and the eyeball image?

Here’s my interpretation:

The person in the photo is reflecting upon how much he cherishes his partner, how blessed he is to have her in his life to share his good days, his bad days, and those in between. To hug with his heart. To kiss with every ounce of love within himself.

Tears welled in my eyes as I was keying in the words, “To hug with his heart.” I didn’t plan the tears with the intention of that being a perfect fit for this article. I couldn’t do that if I tried. I’m not a tear machine. Historically, I’m quite the opposite. My expertise has always been in tear suppression.

The tears are in my eyes because those words touched my heart, as that’s how I hug my wife. Nothing in the world feels better to me than those moments of embrace. It is as if my wife, Donna, and I are one.

My tears feel wonderful — chock full of life and positive energy. They feel so darned good that I have no desire to reach over for the tissue box sitting on the end table just to my left; I’m just going to let the tears be.

My tears connect me to the loving part of my core self — to my most intimate of feelings. They are a blessing.

Hugging my wife with my heart makes me think of the lyrics to the Al Jolson song, as he’s reflecting upon how much he loves his honey … I’m sitting on top, top of the world, just rolling along, just rolling along. Here’s a link to the video. Enjoy!

I wasn’t always like this — a welcomer of feelings and tears, doors wide open, inviting them in.

Growing up, the last thing I wanted was to be in touch with my feelings. Quite understandable, as most of my feelings were some combination of sadness, fear, shame, and loneliness.

Making matters infinitely worse was that I had to keep them to myself as a form of self-protection as I had no one to turn to, to listen, to hug me, to console me. I can’t recall a single time my parents comforted me or even noticed I was upset.

And it’s not as if I had David Copperfield’s sleight of hand skills at hiding my pain. “Abracadabra” was not in my vocabulary.

My mom and dad weren’t mean-spirited people; they were just emotionally clueless, lost in their own world, not able to see past the tips of their respective noses.

Oops, there I go — tears welling up in my eyes once again. Why this time? Because writing the above words put me in touch with the lonely, wounded little boy I was when I was growing up, and who continues to reside within me to this day. The little boy who was convinced there was something fundamentally wrong with him and had nobody to tell him otherwise. Nobody to tell him he was precious and lovable exactly as he was — no repair work needed.

My parents are long gone. Fortunately, I now have somebody in my life I can always count on being there for me. That somebody comes in the form of a loving interior voice that nobody can take away from me. I only need to listen to his wise, loving words.

It is the voice of my inner loving parent who welcomes all of little Arty’s tears and fear, and whose sole interest is to understand and comfort me.

These past few months, I cry more and more frequently. Some people cry at the drop of a hat. For me, it’s reaching the point I cry at the thought of a hat dropping.

I’m loving my tears — each and every one. I’ve never felt more alive and present.

Interestingly, they’re never tears of sadness, not that there would be anything wrong if they were. Nor are they tears of joy.

Rather they are tears reflective of my being increasingly emotionally present with myself, with others, and with the sights and sounds that surround me each and every day.

What Brings Tears to My Eyes

My tears are triggered by a potpourri of observations and thoughts. All sponsored by being present. Here’s a sampling:

• When I listen to songs. It’s difficult to explain what it is about songs that get my tears rolling, as my tears are so reflexive. The best way I can describe it is it’s some combination of the melody, the beauty of the singer’s voice, the emotions with which the song is sung, and how I relate to the lyrics. The other day, the song True Colors (Cyndi Lauper) brought tears to my eyes. It was mainly the lyrics that got to me. For example … So don’t be afraid to let them show. Your true colors, true colors are beautiful like a rainbow. Here’s the YouTube video if you’re interested.
• When I hear or speak an emotional truth. I define emotional truth as “authentic words that come straight from the heart.” It’s words that can’t be false, as they reflect the speaker’s unique perspective. It takes courage and insight to speak one’s emotional truth. Here’s one of mine: Never again am I going to hold back from being myself. Been there, done that; I deserve better. If you don’t like me, so be it. Yes, my feelings may be hurt, but I’d rather deal with my hurt feelings than suppress being myself.
• When I’m feeling loved or loving. It could be at the end of a difficult conversation with my wife, feeling in my bones that both of us did our best to listen to each other with an open mind and a caring heart. As the conversation is winding down, my eyes meet my wife’s and the words flash in my brain in large neon lights — God, I love that woman!
• From hysterical laughter. For example, a few evenings ago, my wife and I were reading old letters my father sent to my mother when he was stationed in Missouri during World War II. In multiple letters, he showed comically poor judgment describing interactions he had with other women at the camp base, typically at dances. Here’s one, and I quote … tonight, there’s going to be a dance with girls from a Missouri college as hostesses. Will be a change from the usual dance, as the faces will be different. However, don’t worry, dear, as they really don’t interest me and will just be a diversion for the evening. Nobody compares to you, my darling Claire.
• Watching people embrace life, especially in the face of challenges. A few weeks ago, my wife and I attended a DJ dance party at our community outdoor pool. I can vividly recall watching an emaciated hunchbacked lady who appeared to be in her late 80s or 90s dancing away to a disco beat, hips gyrating as if she had time-traveled 40 years back when the song was at its height of popularity. She was having a blast, immersed in the moment, not letting any concern of incurring a hip fracture slow her down from dancing the night away.

I close with a quote from Leonardo Da Vinci …

Tears come from the heart and not from the brain.

Ten words packed with wisdom, as contained within them is the motivation to let our tears flow. The reasons being:

• Tears put us in touch with our hearts. That, in and of itself, is magical; how blessed we humans are to be wired that way.
• When we are in touch with our hearts, we feel alive and present. Even when they’re tears of sadness, we are giving ourselves a gift by allowing ourselves to fully experience our sorrow, setting the stage for it to pass.

Tears come in a variety of flavors, some of which, of course, taste better to us than others. It’s not as if we’re standing in line at the Mr. Softee ice cream truck, awaiting our turn to order our favorite flavor (mine happens to be chocolate). Rather, what comes up, comes up.

Bear in mind even the melancholy flavors are helpful as all of them connect you to yourself.

Each and every day, you never know what you might hear, say, or feel that will provoke a tear and connect you with the essence of who you are.

That is a blessing — the miracle and magic of what life has to offer you.