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A tear begins its journey, prompted by some emotional collision known only to the mind deep behind the eye. Others may follow but this first outflow harbors the potential of any and all that may well follow it in due time. Pain, heartache, stress, and loss, are a few possible culprits. Many others hover alongside all the possibilities just out of every spectator’s range of recognition.

The trail ensues. The liquid begins to evaporate. As it does so crystals of salt accumulate. They wait for the next tear to come along and dissolve them back into solution. They will reform later in ever accumulating amounts. Wiping the fluid away will only spread them into swaths of afterthought.

Spasms of the diaphragm begin in earnest. Their externalization heralds the onslaught of pure and honest emotional expression. The struggle for composure is a losing battle that will in most likelihood end in utter defeat. The soul can only hunker down for the duration. Hope retreats from the light of day and cowers just over the horizon. The battle for resolution plays out like a war of mortars. Shells of sincerity lob back and forth between the reality of what is happening and the desires of what can only be hoped for. Mental scars become wide chasms into which even the mundane will sprinkle liberal amounts of salt. The synapses swell with chemicals. The floodgates open and the brine flows freely.

The lamentation builds towards an unknown crescendo. How high will it go? How long will it last? What will be the distance over time of its’ taper into conclusion? How much of the heart and mind will survive, if any? What kind of person will emerge on the other side of this tribulation? The mind contemplates little if any of these things for the moment. It is far too busy with the tug of war between sanity and insanity to care much at all for such seeming trivialities. It will surely choose the order in which to answer all these questions and more somewhere in the future.

A shoulder to lean on, a sympathetic ear, or even a compassionate glance could do wonders for mental stability right now. The yearning for these things flits about as afterthoughts in the chaotic winds of irrationality. Rationality slashes away in futility in its vain attempt to maintain control. A few thrusts find their mark, but far more miss miserably.

Sit still and the pools of dismay become lakes. Longer still and the lakes become oceans. Move about and the waters follow you like a flash flood, disturbing the soil everywhere you go emotionally. Your mind cannot take flight as your mental wings have become caked in the mud of the situation. All you can do is ‘let it out’. Take as long as you need. To hold back is far more harmful a thing to do to yourself.

The body quakes will pass. The rivulets will dry up. Hope will peek over the horizon but you must strike out to rejoin it. If you do not pick yourself up you might well be here forever. Gather the ‘salt’ up. Toss it over your shoulder but make sure it lands in the pot. Wisdom is an ever simmering concoction on a back burner. It requires tending after such episodes. Stir with a wooden spoon only. Always be prepared to share liberally. Whether liked or not, you know the dish you serve is an honest one. Any disdain for your dispensing, you can easily regard as utter ignorance. You’ve earned the flavors in your pot. The world must earn the flavors in theirs.