Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Some Days are Made for Rain


Nice trombone duets outside the Dupont Circle metro stop.

Some days I cry. I just do. I listen to evocative music, or the voice of someone I love over the phone, or maybe I sink into a beautiful memory - or a sad memory - or some hope for something yet to come. Or all of the above. Some days are just so full that my heart overflows. What can I do but just, well, cry?

Yesterday the weather in DC was absolute perfection, Colorado weather - low humidity, high of about 80 degrees F. I walked and walked, received a wonderful massage from my Bulgarian Olympic swimmer massage therapist, then wandered home among honking car horns and the din of the city. Everything seemed absolutely perfect.

I was listening to the music of Townes Van Zandt and Rick Lowe and the beautiful voices of Bono, Aaron Neville, even the Grateful Dead (via the ipod). My goodness, I was a piece of work yesterday. Whew.

With all the sparking sunshine, fluffy clouds, and lost in the beauty of the music, somehow I just could not keep myself from shedding many many many tears. They weren't those hot, acidic, burning tears that accompany a bout of frustration or grief, no, they were the wet, sweet-salty tears of pure, heart-felt expression. People passing me on the street steered a wide arc around me. It's so funny how averse we are to any emotion in this crazy city - except anger. That, we get. But the kind of weepy mood that accompanies feelings of love and beauty? There's no place for the expression of that in the District, oh no.

You know, crying is therapeutic. It draws toxins from the body, it empties lymph glands. Sometimes, too, it is the only way to express the fullness of feeling that comes from being so in love with this life, this beautiful planet, this amazing experience of corporeal existence.

Yesterday it was sunny outside but rainy in the internal realms. Today I feel clear and sunny inside. Ironically, or perfectly, depending on how you look at it, I see from my window that the clouds have gathered and a soft rain is falling. Sweet, eh? I think so.

L'chaim, y'all. Sniff sniff.

**Thanks, Aaron Neville, for the way you sing that song.

22 comments:

willow said...

Speaking of Krispy Kremes and music! I love that shot. Oh, and about those luscious tears? Blame it on that old devil moon.

Reya Mellicker said...

Oh yeah. I forgot I can blame just about anything on the moon. Cool!! You're so smart, Willow.

The Bug said...

I like those kinds of tears myself. I mostly get them from some tender vittles moment in a book. Not that they can't result from my own life, I just usually don't go there. But in fiction, I can totally go there. And we all know that when that happens it's really all about my own life.

Reya Mellicker said...

Tender vittles moments? Haha! OMG that is so perfect.

The Bug said...

I forget that not everyone knows that phrase. My cousin's MIL says it ALL the time - don't know where she got it, but I think it's perfect too!

Tom said...

that's a kinder/gentler catharsis...need to cultivate that technique...btw, that's my wife in DC, not my daughter...ha ha. She is so busy in her wanderings that she has blisters and is wincing herself...good for the nodes, eh?

Reya Mellicker said...

Oops. Sorry Tom I misunderstood all the familiar connections. Once we meet I'll get it straightened out.

ellen abbott said...

Beautiful perfect symmetry.

Mrsupole said...

Tears cleanse the soul. They make you feel better and sometimes a total breakdown of unfettered bawling, pouring down the cheeks tears is a wonderful thing. It is good for the blood pressure too.

Nice quiet tears can make one feel better too, but they are not as good as a really good cry.

So I say cry away, cry a day, cry a lot, cry hard, cry softly, just be sure and cry at least once a week or more.

Now if the men in the world had a better understanding of crying then maybe they might have less heart attacks. We can only hope.

God bless.

Butternut Squash said...

Tears rarely come to me, except when I was pregnant. Then I could cry at a dog food commercial.

But laughing, I do a lot of that. Hopefully, it provides a similar release.

Meri said...

I sometimes tear up for no reason apparent to anyone else. Does that go with mysticism?

Cyndy said...

Ooh, I had a bawlfest yesterday too - a bit of a meltdown actually. Today I feel oddly peaceful.

Dupont Circle seems like it's a magnet for trombones. Often on Friday nights in the summertime the United House of Prayer will send about 50 of them down there to "testify" and it's such an amazing sound.

Bee said...

I feel such exhileration when the weather is like that! It gives a person a special kind of zing.

I wish that I could cry more easily. Funnily enough, about the only thing that can make me cry is a sad/stirring movie.

Reya Mellicker said...

Yep, laughing, too will empty the lymph nodes. But tears are magic. In fairytales they cure blindness and melt frozen hearts. When I used to work with the Civil War battlefields, I always made sure a few of them dropped onto the ground, just in case they might be healing.

Apparently yesterday's beauty cryfest was very good for me. Just got back from the Sufi acupuncturist who said my pulses were "great," a word he has NEVER used before. The treatment was amazing. All is well.

Amen.

Reya Mellicker said...

Oh Cyndy I LOVE the trombone orchestra. Don't they have at least one sousaphone or tuba player? I've seen them usually around the 4th of July, next to Kramerbooks. LOVE that sound!

Steve said...

Me too! Yesterday was SO amazing, and I was wandering with my iPod too! I love that feeling, when a terrific song comes on, and you'e in beautiful surroundings, and you just choke up. Loving this life! :)

Pauline said...

gotta love those "wet, sweet-salty tears of pure, heart-felt expression"

too bad more of us can't let go like that. think how good we'd all feel!

steven said...

i rode through the inside of this day of rain and felt its cold cold fingers - little silvery fingers - this morning. on my way home it was a hovering rain that pressed in the tiniest little wetnesses against my face. the day was made for rain. soft and silent. introspection. the class - "could we write about what we would do if this was our last day on earth?" well yeah, you sure can. and they blew much of their writing out on a world they are angry at for being such a self-consumed mess of a place. they're eleven and twelve years old. they have very few filters!!! peace reya. steven

Reya Mellicker said...

Steven I am so in awe of you. You ARE poetry. Toronto Rumi. Yes you are.

STEVE - LOVE IT when we are on a wavelength. How cool.

Believe it or not, Pauline, I'm not much of a cry baby usually. But lately my heart is so open, I just can't help it. A very good thing!

Ronda Laveen said...

Beauty moves me that way, oh yes it does. Tears are so cleansing, just like the rain clearing the air.

Karen said...

Oh thank goodness I'm not the only person who does this. :) Sometimes the world is just too beautiful and the tears flow; I think now that my tears (esp. the ones that don't come from hurt or anger) are a signal that I am witnessing something TRUE... I do, however, try to avoid crying in public. It just freaks people out (which is strange, given that we all do it, right?).

Off to read the comments. Looking forward to tomorrow! :)

Kerry said...

When I cry I am always surprised by the tears, like, wow, where did those come from?
I love what you're saying here. And what a great photo.