The two things that I am best at. Laughing and crying. I laugh for pretty much any reason. Sometimes even in situations that others find amusing too. I laugh at kids, pets, life, toilet humor, mundane events, spoonerisms, malapropisms, ridiculous logic. I guffaw. I giggle. I twitter. I laugh past the point of reason. Laughter feels good. I try not to laugh to hurt other people. I do occasionally have to apologize and explain when it seems like I might be laughing to hurt rather than just being amused. Laughter releases all sorts of excess baggage and feelings. And so on.
The crying serves a function as well. I cry when things touch me. There are two books that I absolutely can't read out loud. The Giving Tree and the kid's book with the toilet on the cover. Both books demonstrate the nurturing of mothers (or caregivers) as children grow into adulthood. Ignoring the fact that the tree gives up everything for her ungrateful "child" and the mother crawls into her grown son's window to rock him as he sleeps- both of which are uber creepy- I feel that depth of emotion for the child as the child slips away. Lest you think I want my children to be dependent on me forever, I absolutely want my growing-too-fast children to mature into self-reliant adults.
I cry during movies. My little one insisted that I finally watch "Up" with her recently. Well, I cried at the beginning. I cried at the end. I cried in the middle a little bit too. It is a beautiful movie. The crying was for different emotions. I was sad that he lost her, but I was moved when she let him go too. I can't make it through the opening credits of Schindler's List. I cry for the senseless suffering. I cry for the fact that a man who seemingly couldn't do anything right made such a huge impact on a few people (well, a lot but not enough- if you know what I mean.) My biggest cry movie I haven't watched in a very long time. Legends of the Fall. I love this movie. It's where I fell in love with Brad Pitt and Aidan Quinn and Julia Ormond even. It is an amazing movie. (Anthony Hopkins is brilliant as well, no surprise.) If you have never seen it, you should- but have tissues. This movie puts me in despair for hours. So I only can watch in when I really need a good cry but don't seem to have a reason. ha ha.
For many summers, I read aloud a book to the younger generation of our beach friends. Somehow the books always seem to have a part where my voice cracks a little bit. In fact, the last book I read, I was brave enough to look up and saw others joining me in the tears. We had to stop and have a little cryfest. One kid, who I jokingly say has no soul, remained dry eyed. She's not as emotional as the rest of us. This is ok, of course. I'm a little jealous that she doesn't have to worry about making a fool of herself in public.
Crying cleanses the soul. A smart friend told me this. I agree. Apparently it's a Jewish proverb, "What soap is for the body, tears are for the soul." It's kind of like oiling a hinge. Sometimes the joint just rusts and doesn't move unless you oil it. Crying is the WD40 of life.
But I do find myself leaning more towards tears when I'm stressed and tired. I am then ill equipped to see the positives, to deal with the hurts real and imaginary, to respond to situations that are not ideal. In those cases, the crying is not the solution, but the symptom. A wise person I live with often suggests I go to bed. As if getting adequate sleep is an option when I'm stressed and tired. Clearly he is someone who isn't plagued with insomnia when not at his best. When I'm stressed and tired, I compound the problem with feeling guilty for every thing I have ever done that was wrong. There are many things. Many things. Daily. Hourly. Big things. Small things. It doesn't matter. They all plague me and cause the tears to flow, the brain to work in nonproductive overdrive, the body to feel heavy and old. And so I cry. Big tears that make no sense, solve no problems, ease no troubles. Are these tears cleansing my soul? I don't think so. If they are, I have the cleanest soul in town. I know this is not true.
How do I deal with these endless, purposeless tears? Go to bed? Sure, that would be great. Laugh? Yes, that probably would help. Forgive myself for my imperfections? Yes! The hardest thing ever.
Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward. ~Kurt Vonnegut
