Man's Search for Meaning

An admission that comes as no surprise to anyone that knows me well: I cry easily.

I cry when I watch a sad movie, or a happy one; I cry at commercials that tug at the heartstrings; I cry when I hear stories of courage and perseverance and heartbreak. I tear up when I think of the sacrifices my family made to let me become who I am, and I sob when I think of all the hardship of others just to carve out a life of peace and opportunity.

I've been crying more than usual, these days. The tears haven't been effusive, but instead short bursts of emotion, a few drops from the eyes and shudders of the shoulders when I think of this geopolitical tempest surrounding us.

When I am ashamed of my crying, ashamed of my inability to keep all this strife and struggle hidden inside me, I think of the words of Viktor Frankl in Man's Search for Meaning:

But there was no need to be ashamed of tears, for tears bore witness that a man had the greatest of courage, the courage to suffer.”

(The preceding was an overview of the notes I took while reading Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning in January 2017. Originally published on inthemargins.ca .)