Cry me a river
Tears are a prophecy. When we cry, and cannot hold back the salty waters within, it’s because our edges are curling up, making room for something else. A sweetness we do not yet know, and cannot know at the moment. When you feel devastated, and you feel pressed in, squeezed into a foetal prayer, a darkness haunting every crevice of your imagination, you are about to be born anew. Look for tears to ease your passage. Look for tears, tiny emissaries of a grander sea, to whisper to you that to vanish is to become larger. Grieve generously. It’s how things are born.