“Come here,” She said, smiling, and enveloped me in Her arms. “You are too hard on yourself.”
I stood for a moment, basking in Her warmth and love.
“I feel like I keep cracking–tons of small cracking around the edges,” I told Her. “I’ll randomly start crying at commercials, or songs on the radio. I don’t know what to do.”
“You will keep cracking, ” She agreed, “like very thin ice on a river that freezes and melts, freezes and melts, freezes and melts without ever fully thawing, getting bumpier and more convoluted as time passes. But you don’t have to keep cracking. If you agree to let yourself melt fully, the ice won’t be able to take purchase and form again.
“It’s summertime. The time for ice has passed. You will need help from the Sun or a friend or a lover to heat the surface, but you must do your part to help melt the ice from below. Then, your river of creativity, love, and joy can run freely again.”
Silver and Gold 
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Reblogged this on We Bring The Fire.
You’ll not be surprised to hear I’m doing the very same thing right now. I’ve had the urge to cry at least three times today from something I read, or something I saw. A sudden punch in the gut that almost, but not quite, brings tears to the eye, and it’s gone a few minutes later at the most. I’m not actually crying, usually – and I’m very used to crying, so that’s all well and good.
But what is the result of fully melting?
I can see how the back-and-forth is the melting and cracking, but…. if we allow ourselves to melt, then what?
-E-
Maybe we’ll merge with the flow? Become part of what is out there instead of blocking it out constantly? That’s a leap of faith.