Everyone I know keeps running, not toward something, but away from something. I've done it, muscled my way into one distraction after another, especially when I could see way off in the distance a familiar sight, my feelings racing toward me.
Loosed from others' opinion of me, I can now allow the spigot to flow. At the same time, I do use discernment - as I did at yesterday's memorial service - when the ocassion warrants it.
But society is still driving that steamroller: texting, emailing, paging, faxing, phoning, driving, ironing, exercising, housekeeping, shopping, eating, smoking, drinking, or drugging - all in an effort to keep the baby boomer tears away.
During a recent review, the supervisor at work tapped his leg in staccato rhythm, avoiding my eyes, answering emails and checking stats on the computer. I wondered what song he was listening to.
My tears cleanse me when the loss, the memory, or rigidity of control bubbles up to the surface. The release of long pent up feelings and tears not only clears the way, but also brings the loss or memory into neutral. Eventually, I can laugh. And when that happens, I am done and no longer have to run from myself or my tears.
We, sweet little human beings that we are, are recognized not by our ethics, values or physical attributes, but by our pathos, our ability to recognize the connection of shared emotions. Without this common thread, we are lost and alone. Physical pain we can handle. It's the emotions we don't want to deal with.
Running may be great for the physical body, but not when it means we are afraid of something. When our spirit beckons us to feel, it's an invitation to let our spirit catch up with our bodies, an opportunity to feel good, become whole, and finally come home.