Tears, Tears, Tears
A tale of a man with infinite tears.
Tears after tears after tears. What else was there? Nothing but tears. His eyes were deep and carried tears well. It seemed to me he held a sea of tears inside him that was coming out today. I wanted to ask what happened to him but was so lost in his tears. Standing in a crowded street to see him crying so openly without the fear of being judged by anyone was quite amazing. It proved he was indeed a brave soul—a soul who broke the toxic belief that men don’t cry or cannot cry. He was inspiring.
I was not too far from him but his tears attracted me so much that I moved more near to him. I wondered what was his sorrow, his wound that made him cry so badly, to the degree of infinity. He was not looking bad with tears, instead, signs of courage were shining on his face. But tears, tears, tears. I finally broke the silence and asked with a heavy heart,
“Oh dear, why so many tears?”
He looked at me as if he was trying to recognize me. Then after a few seconds, he began speaking,
“I don’t think we ever met or I know you any other way. It makes me wonder why you are asking me about my tears?”
“Actually, I have noticed you for the last half hour. I never saw any man crying in a crowded street. So I really want to know what made you do it?”
“It makes me feel you have a caring heart. Let me tell you the reason. I am crying on behalf of my past self who wanted to cry but didn’t because of the false belief that men don’t cry and tears are a sign of weakness. Today I met a monk on a train who told me that by not crying we not only damage ourselves but also the humanity we all are a collective part of. So I am crying and I am crying not only for me but also on behalf of all those men who learned that tears are an unmanly part of life.”
“I can understand but how your tears on behalf of your past self and other men will bring any change?” curiously I asked him.
“I am crying for my own soul satisfaction that at least I am trying despite being so late but I am letting the tears flow now. The change lies in the hands of people who are watching me crying. People like you. If you go home today and tell men in your family or friends that a stranger cried for them on their behalf, then maybe it will encourage them to shed tears.”
“I promise I will do it,” said I, and suddenly tears started coming out from my eyes like a flood.”
He held my hand and whispered in my ear,
“Change begins when we show up.”
I thanked him for teaching me a valuable lesson in a way I never expected. His words made a deep impact on my mind and I shared what he told me with every man I knew in the hopes that it would inspire them to learn it’s okay for men to cry and it is not a sign of weakness.
