March 14, 2026, morning, sitting and listening to Imee Ooi chant the Buddhist Chant of Metta. Metta, Pali (Maitri in Sanskrit), with varied shades of meaning: Lovingkindness, Friendliness, Benevolence, Compassion. Almost always, when I cry, it is a song that touches the heart. For many years, my eyes were dry. What has changed? Whatever, I am thankful it has, for tears say I have changed. I welcome tears. I am grateful for tears. And I often feel, like this morning, they are not my tears, they are our tears. They are the tears of those I have met and never met, of friends and foes, of peoples past, present, and future. They are the tears of far-distant ancestors who wept; we continue their joys and sorrows. The Christian Bible speaks of Creation groaning like someone in childbirth, awaiting its liberation. Could it be, as we grow close to the Heart of Life, we groan, too, with the Earth and Sky, in unison with all Nature seen and unseen. When we weep a weeping arising from beyond the self, Life weeps. We are the groaning of Nature for its sufferings and its hopes, awaiting, as the Scripture says, its "redemption" - a term for the liberation of slaves.
Also, the poem refers to pain. The pain is not heartache, it was physical pain, due to an injury.
* * *
Metta chant Compassion song and sitting here, alone
She sings sings sings I sit in pain listening
and
tears tears tears again, later, tears tears tears
something alights rings true reaches out to me from far away even distant times and distant places - beyond myself
witnesses storytellers tears are
these - not from the pain something touches the heart
don't get caught in the darkness don't get trapped in the dullness don't get hardened by the hardness - disheartened is not an option despair not true to yourself - to us
don't follow others who wade out into the waters icy cold
the heart was made to remain warm, to feel everything it feels
tears are cleansing joy is healing sadness a salve - more precious when not for yourself
let yourself cry cry cry - why hold back the tears
cry whether from sorrow or delight
don't look straight into the light relax when settles the night brightness is everywhere
darkness a candle is alight, there
the heart was made to feel
tears made to flow
feel you stay alive don't you die inside
She sings and I sob a gladsome sound - maybe more... tears do not tell all...
is it true as I once read - when we weep, though joyful, a door opens to sadness too, something lost
yes it seems so it seems so - one tear can tell many stories
She sings... tears speak - a door opens to a secret still untold after the eyes are dry the face no longer lined with the wet
and
I'm at peace with that untold, unknown - and a softness that echoes the joys and sufferings of worlds
