I wonder if I just might finally get what T.S. Eliot may have meant, when he wrote that April is the cruellest month. Or let’s say March, given that we here in the Southern USA are about three weeks ahead of the rest of the country. Spring, cruel?
When Spring looks like this?
When, at the dawn of Spring, Bugsy looks like this?
Or Barney like this?
But sorrow needs know no special season. The other day I wrote something that stimulated pain in a dear friend. I walked straight into a wall of special sensitivity, to pain so great it is unbearable.
It is tough to walk the line of empathy, in a situation like that.
Fearing that the next thing said will catapult the situation into the abyss.
You don’t want to make a single wrong move.
Psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk says that one of the worst things about overwhelming pain is the isolation. The feeling that what is most dear to us, that which we cherish the most, can be a matter of carelessness to another. That we are alone in feeling the way we do.
We are lucky, my friend and I, that we share empathy. Thanks go out to Brené Brown, again and again, for this charming video honoring the life-saving character of empathy. I remember it often.
What can be Spring to one can be cruelty to another.