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Friday, February 6, 2009

A Numerologist's Analysis of a Good Cry

Looking at the world through rose colored glasses is the only way to go...for me. It's a mind-set that I know will keep me crying-for-joy-healthier and stop a flow of depressing tears throughout the incoming four years of recovery.

On this #1 "start something new" Universal Day, I'm gonna' begin a get happ-ier diet. When I think of heroes...scores of young people serving in Iraq and their families and Sully, the pilot who brought his plane down safely. When I feel the joy of the parenting craze begun by the Obama family. Job losses and shrinking retirement funds are causing generations of families to live together. And, with all the negatives of "two women in the kitchen" there are the pleasures of grandchildren and grandparents sharing life experiences. There are happenings brought about by the failing economy that create or bring back better images. And, even good thoughts can make me cry...

...tears of sadness and the eyes oceans of joy are "emotional perspiration" according to Benedict Carey in the NY Times. Sweating out misery or joy...that makes me smile.

Crying reminds us of infancy when a cry brought comforting. Crying blocks thought. Crying may balance thought. Crying may not be the end all to soothing emotional pain, however, it is always a catharsis of sorts. Sometimes a good cry gets it all out and energy returns. Sometimes a good cry brings exhaustion and depression that drains ability to solve problems. So, I'm gonna' do selective crying on my "happ-ier diet."

I'll tear-up when they play the Star Spangled Banner and drip delicately at a wedding. I did well-up at pictures of Obama looking proud as he tried on his new Air Force One jacket...he evokes my maternal reactions. And, I will create an ocean of joyful tears when the stock market goes up, my house appraisal gets realistic and helpful investment interest rates return. I'm gonna' wear my rose colored glasses to remind me to stay on my happ-ier diet - to keep me truckin' and above ground long enough to cry when my peace-of- mind returns.

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