Step Fifty-Two: Universally Weak

Dear Readers,

I have my bed somewhat lofted, so that I have some storage space, a place for my dresser and then a hide-y hole. I also happen to keep my printer there for pluggage reasons. So today I crawled over the growing mound of dirty clothes (which usually spans across the entirety of my half and occasionally my room-mates) and into the hide-y hole to print a paper. One of my friends, watched me disappear beneath my bed and commented on the coolness of my hide out. I laughed and replied that it was pretty nifty and perfect for crying in (hey, don't judge me for crying in dark closed spaces). She frowned slightly and said "do you know where else is perfect for crying?" She patted her shoulder. Cheesiness aside, I would have tackle hugged her (except for the desk, dresser, and stinky heap between us). Intentionally or unintentionally, my friend reminded me of a lesson I seem to be incapable of remembering. She reminded me of the importance of being universally weak.

You see, we are all weak. And we all cry. Some of us choose to do it in dark closed spaces, others of us overcompensate, and still others of us pretend that the dribbling drops of hot salty water pouring down are face aren't tears at all. We are ashamed. We are embarrassed. But there is no reason to be! None of us are perfect and we are all too familiar with the racking sobs. We can hide these faults or blatantly and ignorantly ignore their existence, or we can use them for their original intention: to bring us into community with one another.

Think about this for a moment. As cheesy as the shoulder-to-cry-on image is, it is also very intimate. It is two people choosing to place themselves in a position of discomfort for the sake of another. The crier has to reveal what society demands is to be hidden forever, our weakness, our shame. The shoulder is not only choosing to be covered in snot (ew) but is choosing to enter into that most sacred place of grieving with the crier. They are binding themselves physically and emotionally to the crier so that the two become one. In essence, both are choosing trust and in doing so they are building community.

I know I have told you this before, and I will probably say it many times more because it is of that much importance. Community is everything. You cannot do life alone, but the beauty of community is that neither can they. So let us all learn to be like my precious friend. Let us learn to offer to join those in mourning, let us choose to trust and choose to build. Let us be universally weak so that we may become individually strong.