Wednesday, June 29, 2005

The Wail of Being

I had a damn good cry last week. Broken, dissheveled, pathetic, lying shirtless on the floor, I wept like there was no tomorrow, lost somewhere deep inside, uninhibited. The Wail of Being, I called it. I liked the sound of it, The Wail of Being - very existential. It seemed appropriate too, to attribute my tears to no particular agent, to a sentiment both vague and overwhelming, to life itself, for I'm not troubled by anything particular at the moment. No kittens have been recently mutilated, and my library of vintage Playboy's remains untouched underneath my bed, just where I left them, and so, eliminating the usual sources of pain, I'm at a loss to explain my breakdown.

But this is beside the point. It doesn't really matter why I was crying, but that I was crying, and that it was an ennobling experience. I felt vital and new afterwards. I felt good. There was no shame or regret within me. I felt an individual, finally.

"It's a shame men don't cry more," a friend said to me as we casually happened upon the subject. I agreed, bolstered by my recent experience. It seems women have a kind of monopoly on this whole crying thing, but, dammnet, why should they have all the fun? But I started to think that perhaps the reason it felt so good to weep is that I, as a man, am not supposed to.
We say we're much more enlightened and liberal these days when it comes to gender stereotypes, but that's not really the case. Real men don't cry, and they sure as hell don't admit to it, and they especially don't praise it. And so, in giving up a role and an act that I play almost every day, one that is often stifling and unnatural, I attained something pure and genuine. This feeling was born out of sorrow, but punctuated by joy, facilitated by the structure I overcame, and so the structure was necessary, but only as something to be occasionally razed.


At 10:47 PM, Blogger Tim Smith said...

Spoken truly and sweetly my dear friend. It's about letting it all go. It's about finding that deep sorrow from within and enabling its release. Find it. Embrace it. And then when its ready to soar, let the waters flow.

At 8:38 AM, Blogger Hector said...

I don't feel particularly shamed for not crying more. Crying doesn't accomplish anything, therefore it is a waste of one's valuable time unless you consider "emotional revelations" to be of value.

I could say with equal validity that it's a shame men don't kill each other more. There would be less time wasted on bureaucracy if it were acceptable for me to walk up to my dissidents and blow holes through their faces. Here is an experience that is far more emotionally satisfying than crying AND that manages to accomplish something towards one's own ends.

At 11:30 PM, Blogger D. Harding said...

Wow. Yet again, Hector, you've missed the point. The fact that you say crying doesn't "accomplish anything" only reveals your close-minded notion of those things you regard to be worth accomplishing. No, crying doesn't pay the bills, but it's only a waste of time if you choose to take a utilitarian standpoint on all aspects of life, a standpoint whose validity you've neglected to justify or even argue for.

Your analogy between crying and killing is too ridiculous to warrant a serious response. Pure sophistry doesn't deserve such attention.

But the fact that you belive killing someone with whom you disagree to be "far more emotionally satisfying" than crying is really quite disturbing. From where do these sociopathic leanings derive their origin, I wonder? Perhaps you've never learned to appropriately give vent to your emotions before they manifest themselves in such morbid, violent fantasies. Maybe if you cried more you'd be a little less insane. So please, give it a try, for the sake of us all.

At 4:04 AM, Blogger Wintermute said...

Good for you for breaking barriers Gunnar, you kick away that ladder, as Ludwig would have it. And I agree, Hector, you need a good cry. Let it out man.


Post a Comment

<< Home