Tear-Stained Face

From “Beyond Love Stories” by Rumi

“I have no more words.
Let the soul speak
with the silent articulation
of a face.”

My face today was tear-stained.

Having been gone for five months and just now getting home to print documents which have been collecting all this time, reading the fine print yielded much overwhelm. I had given it everything I had but I was digging a whole deeper by the moment. Trying to file a Federal tax return on TurboTax, I could not hold back the tears.

As I stretched out on the yoga mat, I could hear my mother saying she had wasted her life. Old feelings came quickly to the surface. How could she feel that as she looked at me and thought of her granddaughter, my daughter, and her great grandchildren?

I let some breath seep into my chest knowing these feeling were not MINE alone.

I waded in deeper emotional waters for an hour or so more before reaching out to Stacey ( she works for a tax planner!) because I had not wanted to burden her. Today is April 10.

Just hearing her voice brought forth new waves of emotion. She sent me a secure portal to submit all of the documentation and then let me know they would file an extension for me. Next month they will file the return. There are a lot of details being omitted here, but none that are vital to your recognizing that humans are navigating a lot of strong emotions right now.

The past couple of days I have been thinking about the opening chapter I read in a book a friend mentioned at the 6:30 am Tuesday meditation. It is written by a Forest Ranger Chaplain. Only the dog returned. The child was still missing as night fell heavy and dark around her parents, the chaplain, and those searching.

From Chapter 1, Here if You Need Me, by Kate Braestrup:

His wife is holding onto my hand, tightly, and her hand is cold. She turns her eyes to me as her husband continues: “I know that the longer the search goes on, the greater the chances are that my little girl is dead.”

…. “But wouldn’t she hear us calling to her and answer?” Ralph asks.

…. “She’s asleep,” I say.

…. “Little kids who get lost in the woods do something really smart,” I tell Marion. “When they realize they’re lost, they find a snug place – like under a bush – curl up, and go to sleep. Adults tend to keep moving; they keep trying to find their way out. They think they have to solve the problem themselves. Little kids conch out and wait for the grown-ups to solve it. If Allison is under a bush asleep, she probably can’t hear us hollering.”

Kate’s husband, a state trooper, was killed on the highway leaving her all alone with their four young children. She became a minister because it had been his dream.

The April full moon is two days away but feels fully felt.

Another friend at the meditation shared a song she listens to as an aid for crying when she needs to give space to the emotions that demand to be felt;“Sand and Water” is written and sung by Beth Nielsen Chapman:

All alone, I heal this heart of sorrow
All alone, I raise this child
Flesh and bone, he’s just
Bursting towards tomorrow
And his laughter fills my world, and wears your smile
All alone, I came into the world
All alone, I will someday die
Solid stone is just sand and water, baby
Sand and water, and a million years gone by

This evening as I shared with a precious friend who is navigating overwhelming health challenges and is justified in having had her own melt down today, I heard myself speaking the truth of these emotions, “They are not personal. We are truly all just walking each other home….”

Perhaps none of us is really ever all alone.

Barbara Brodsky reminds us often when the conditions are present emotions will arise. Amen. And a tired grin on this tear-stained face.