I am so easily moved to tears lately. It’s not a new, being moved. But allowing the emotion to flow without stifling it is certainly very new.
Things that have brought me to tears in the last few weeks:
- The finishing moments on some days of Caroline Girvan’s Epic I. She is a warrior, so inspiring and such a healthy approach to strength over slimness and I delight in how I am slowly being able to do things I always pushed aside for not wanting to struggle.
- So many, many moments on the new season of Drive to Survive
- Ronnie and Barty’s channel, with the overwhelming views of snow capped mountains, high altitude sunlight and tall coniferous trees, just make me watch with tears streaming. You can sample the most recent one here, the most of which I watched through a teary gaze.
- Some weeks ago I went to a play, for the first time in over a year of course. Socially distanced, and all. The hall was barley full, and it was a poignant, but funny play. Dark comedy, if you will. But even before it began, when the lights went down and the spotlight on the opening scene came on, I welled up into an overwhelming river of tears that would just not stop. I realised it was just the visceral experience of being in a public space and enjoying something in the company of other bodies that did it. I have never been so grateful for my mask, which did a fantastic job of hiding half my face and soaking up snot.
- Yesterday I went to an art show at CKP. And again, I got goose bumps walking through the gallery and felt very touched to be consuming art in a public space again. I have missed this so much. Now all I need is a night of dancing, or a live gig. When I think about it, I feel a bodily craving for it. This was the last memorable one.