how unmasking our raw trembling and naked selves is a good thing

Recently there was a death in my family that was particularly difficult.

There is something about tragedy, loss and suffering that opens a person up. The rawness and depth of the ache seems to allow access to layers that were previously ignored or otherwise off-limits.

It is beautiful to see someone sharing their pain freely and without ego. That is, without hiding behind limits set by societal norms of how intense is too intense? how deep, too deep? (I once had someone say to me, you know, you're kind of intense)

Some people seem to naturally have more ready access to this level of emotional rawness than others. For some it is right there on their face at any instant or ready to spill out at the word go. 

I am one of those people. I once cried in high school because a much-loved teacher who had departed to another school had a whole box of donuts (his favorite treat to give students) delivered to me during class one day. I remember I wasn't even embarrassed at my display of emotions, I only remember being so surprised with love and gratitude and feeling those feelings so fully.

I cry a lot actually.

I once had a very intuitive friend advise me to think about tears. Tears can actually be a way that we run from our emotions or distract ourselves from what is going on internally. They can be another mask we wear.

This comment stuck with me and I refer back to it sometimes when I feel myself welling up. Just a quick check in, what am I feeling and am I allowing myself to feel it fully? If yes, then the tears are a natural part of the process for me.

My grandmother taught me to cry.

We used to sit together when I was small and listen to her favourite music, Bach, and cry, feeling the beauty of the symphony in our hearts.

I don't remember crying when she died, but these days when I talk to her, I often well up.

So yes, my emotions are always at the surface. I'm not saying this is good or bad, I'm just reveling in the differences between people. I often wish I could be a more "composed" person.

I was in this group of people recently, working on a personal development program together, and we were given this really intense and extremely gratifying exercise. We stood face to face with every other person in the group, one at a time, and had to look directly into their eyes for a period of time. The instructions were to tell them silently, using our eyes only, about our personal journey. Trying to set aside the nerve-wracking experience and general discomfort of the intimacy involved implicit in staring into another's eyes, I set about exposing myself to each of them and opening myself to see what they would share with me.

I was astounded to realize just how much we can share with our eyes. Some people let me right into their souls. They showed me their pain and their triumph and their love. Others were open but hesitant, but as I revealed myself to them they too would open like a flower, the depth behind the mask. And some stayed shut. There was a wall just beyond the surface that they clung to, consciously or unconsciously.

The most profound thing I learned from this exercise is that, as we've been told, we are all one. Regardless of our experiences, our pain our growth, we aren't just the same as one another, we are different faces of the same person. Different perspectives of the same love. 

In our grief and our suffering, in our gratitude, love and joy we are connected. The walls we put up are artificial. They may serve a purpose for us and we can choose to use them. But as soon as we allow it, we can experience oneness.

Try it. Look at the next person you see from the knowledge that he is you and see what happens.

In my life I often feel like I have to tone down my intensity so that I don't scare others away. I wonder what would happen if I let that go. When grief touches us we sometimes glimpse a portal into the realm of oneness. Is this a lesson we can take with us throughout our lives - being just a little more raw, a bit vulnerable, and maybe subsequently more loving?