Since my Bon Voyage party--during which I took up a semi-permanent residence on cloud nine--I've cried seven times. Four of the seven took place in the midst of goodbyes, the other three at the thought of them... and trust me, I am hardly at the half-way point. This is the way I am. I feel a lot and I know it.So I've tightly grasped onto a yoga teacher's words, "however you feel is okay." Another yogic memory has resurfaced as well; of that one time I cried in class. I was at a studio on the Upper West Side beside my Aunt Maryann and my cousin Bianca. We were in a seated twist to the right, and following one deep breath, the tears began. I was alarmed at how swiftly they continued. It was a quiet cry but an intense one. Although I'd known I needed it, I hadn't expected it then. (Sigh).
Last week I took a spontaneous visit to the Chuang Yen Monastery with a friend of mine. Two hours flew by as her and I explored the peaceful grounds. I felt a sense of uncomplicated calm come over me in addition to a deep sense of self. It was kind of amazing, and in a lot of ways, comforting. As I wrestle with the breadth of feeling weary, anxious, doubtful, enthusiastic, vulnerable, blessed, and lonely (a premonition of sorts) all at the same time, forgiving awareness is key.
I don't think there'll ever be a day when tears won't be an awkward guest at goodbyes between myself and the friends and family I adore, but this somewhat habitual process just might be necessary as my life unfolds. I know I'll be okay and I will see them again soon. After all, there are such things as happy tears, too.