As I sat down to write this edition of The Anxious Morning, I opened Spotify to play something that a friend sent me. It was a lovely bit of music that I enjoyed as I wrote. Then Spotify did that thing where it keeps playing music like the music you just listened to. Whatever, Spotify. Thanks, I guess.
I wasn’t really paying attention. The music is just on in the background as I write. It’s the way I work. I didn’t really notice what I was hearing.
Then I did notice. Spotify decided that I needed to hear the Intermezzo Sinfonico from Cavalleria Rusticana by Pietro Mascagni. Cavalleria Rusticana is an Italian opera. The intermezzo is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful three and a half minutes in all of music. It is one of my favorites and always will be. If you’re reading this, here’s a link so you can listen on YouTube (everyone can use YouTube). If you’re listening to this as a podcast episode, I’ll have it playing in the background and hopefully the episode doesn’t get taken down or whatever happens to podcasts when music is playing.
The point is, I stopped writing and I noticed. This morning I am writing while perched at a large picture window over looking my front garden. There is a huge old maple tree dominating the view in the background. A smaller red Japanese maple that lives at this house because I took it with me from my old house 20 years ago is in the foreground just outside the window. There are oak trees scattered around in my field of vision. It is the first real Fall day of the year. Cold. Crisp. The sun is up, shining brilliantly at that angle that tells you that the summer really is over, but that everything is going to be OK regardless.
As I listened to the music, I watched the trees swaying gently in the autumn wind, bathed in the morning sunlight. It’s been one of the most difficult weeks I’ve had in a long time with respect to trying to get so much done in a short amount of time. My eyes are achy from looking at screens. I have a headache. I’ve slept even less than usual this week, which is saying something for me.
In that moment, I really just needed to stop everything, listen to one of my favorite pieces of music, and watch the sun and the trees. I needed to just stop and watch the wind. So I did. For about three and a half minutes. The trees were moving in slow motion. They were listening with me.
Here’s the payoff. Deep voice, scruffy beard, broad shoulders and tattoos do not preclude tears. I cried while I listened and watched. I won’t tell you that I was ugly crying, but there were tears. I’m not ashamed of that. I think I kinda needed it. I had a much needed moment with my thoughts and emotions, and this included some tears. That’s OK. Honestly, I think I kinda liked it at some level.
Back when I was really struggling with anxiety and depression, those tears would have been bad. They would have triggered all kinds of secondary feelings that would instantly merge into fear within seconds. It was damn near automatic.
Big emotions became fear. Crying was something to be avoided because it felt like it became uncontrollable and turned into something terrifying and huge. The same could be said for other big emotions like excitement or anger. They all become fear. I tried to keep them all at arms length all the time. That is not a natural thing for a human being to do. It’s exhausting and try as we might, especially while we are struggling, we are going to have emotions. Some of them will be large. I was convinced in those days that I could not handle that.
Yet this morning, at the end of an insanely busy, exhausting, stressful week, I sat and cried for a few minutes and it was a good thing. It was a natural release of things that needed to be released. It was OK. I enjoyed it at some level. I felt better afterward. And as a bonus, the moment was made even more special and even more enjoyable by the fact that it was triggered by a bit of beautiful music, wind, sun, and trees. I could not have asked for a better set of circumstances under which to lose it in a good way for a few minutes.
You may be in that place that I was in once, where tears are harbingers of fear or panic. You may be afraid of “feeling big” and trying desperately to remain on an even keep, trying to keep parts of your humanity under wraps because you are afraid of them now. But I promise, that does not have to be the rest of your life.
None of this is easy. I say it all the time. But the hard work and the struggle is so worth it. Because one day down the road you may find yourself on a crisp Fall morning, looking at the trees, enjoying the sun, and having your emotions stirred by music, or art, or poetry, or whatever. You will feel. Maybe you’ll even cry.
And believe it or not … you’ll like it.
Thanks for reading or listening this morning. I appreciate it.
There’s no Recovery Monday live stream this week but you can find all the old videos in one playlist on my YouTube channel here.
Music Credit
Cavalleria rusticana: Intemezzo sinfonico
Performed by: Herbert von Karajan, Orchestra De Teatro Alla Scala, Milano, Pietro Mascagni
Written by: Giovanni Targioni-Tozzetti, Guido Menasci, Pietro Mascagni
Produced by: Hand Weber
Source: Deutche Grammophon (DG)
175. When You Can Cry .. And Kinda Like It