The thing is . . .

I want to be reduced to tears

Awkward as it sounds, I mean it. I really do want to be reduced to tears...

Finding meaning is a phrase that’s been on my mind and part of conversation a lot lately. I’m entering the second half of my life, and now, more than trying establish an identity, a place in society, or building stuff, I find myself mostly wanting to better connect with the meaning of things. I want to reach out and touch shadowy truth, perceive the story behind the story.

Meaning often reveals itself in the form of narrative, especially fiction. Our daily concerns and self-absorption are suspended for a time and we enter another place, another state of mind, another person. We encounter things we couldn’t otherwise access. And why shouldn’t it be so? Even Jesus told us what he thinks about life and how one might live in ever-increasing integration with self and others, with reality itself, not so much through bullet-pointed lists or specific directions, but through stories: “So there was this widow…” “One day this steward…”

I’ve written a lot over the years, and for one reason and another, my young adult novel, Light in the Canyon, will be the first story in all those reams of effort to be published. Writing is hard. And not always fun. I have’t been good at it for long, if I am even now. But I’ve never been able to set it aside for very long. If there’s a ‘why’ to my insistence on writing, even when it feels terrible and like it’s not going anywhere, it’s this: I want to journey with others, experience their joy and their tears, their folly and triumph. I want to see the world through their eyes, noticing things I would otherwise miss, feeling things I might normally dismiss simply because I’m not them. Because in fact I become, for a moment, them. I want to reach the other side of a story and feel as if I’m rising out of a vivid dream, still a little disoriented. I want to feel vast and small at the same time. I want to miss the people, fictional as they may be, that I’ve spend so much intimate time with. Most of all, I want to come away not quite the same as I was.

Maybe empathy is one of the ways we find meaning. Empathy for trees, animals, water, land, and most of all, for other people. And maybe stories offer some of the richest soil for growing empathy. In stories we’re asked to take on another’s cares, hopes, worries. To see them as fully human. To try to love them enough to see how their story ends. Yes, I want to be reduced to tears, because tears are a sign of coming face to face with what’s most important — pain and heartbreak, but also joy and wonder and gratitude. Tears signal that we’ve caught a glimpse of what is real.

My book comes out in June. As we inch closer to launch, I want to tease brief passages from my novel. A few sentences that, while maybe not causing me to tear up, still have the ability to make me feel something. Whether or not you feel something is another matter… I’ll post the teasers in notes, so if you’re reading this in your email, you’ll have to visit Substack to see them.

Now — go find something to cry about.