when the ancient Israelite people encounter the red sea, they arrive at the shore of their own tears. salty waters, countless drops, amassed into one ocean, one obstacle. tear cried from the pain of their bodies being exploited. tears cried from the grief of losing loved ones to the whims of their rulers. tears cried from the heartbreak of lacking agency to determine their own futures. this huge body of tears stood between them and freedom. nachson rushes into its depth, into its thickness, his body covered in tears from the waist down. within moments, these tears become a walkway, a path forward, a bridge to life and a protective barrier from oppression. a bridge to possibility and a barrier from death. a bridge to hope and a barrier from stagnation. a bridge to expansiveness, to connection, to presence and a barrier from narrowness, alienation and distraction. tears of liberation.
what tears can I cry, what wells of sorrow can I confront, what pain can I rush into to show me the way to another side.