That's you crying, not me. I just have something in my eye.
Jordan Peterson was, without any doubt, the writer and speaker of the words that essentially helped me drag myself out from the bottom of the black pit that my life had become by 2018.
My life, my world and that of the people around me is a better place to live in because this guy exists, speaks, writes and teaches.
If you are unhappy or a bit stuck or suspect that you might not be as well as you could be mentally, I would encourage giving his material a listen.
He might dismantle a lot of what you think or believe to be good and correct, but it's often those beliefs that are making you less than you could or should be, or are at the root of why you don't feel too good about yourself, your health, your life, the future or the world around you.
You have nothing to lose.
When I was a boy I cried a lot inside. I suppose if I'm honest I'll have to admit than if the tears actually surfaced they were usually accompanied by rage, which I had never learned to handle very well. I probably had reasons. I only ever saw My Dad cry one time in my whole life. I lived nearby at the time; maybe 20 years ago now, and was repairing one of his old cars at the time. He came over and watched for awhile, very quietly. I easily sensed something and asked. Suddenly he began telling me about his cat, which had an abdominal tumor and had to be euthanized. He cried! I was so shaken I didn't know what to say or do. You had to know my Dad to know the moment. I just listened to him while I leaned back against the car looking straight ahead. I couldn't even look at him. It was quite a moment. Then it passed and he acted as if nothing had happened. I will never forget. If he knew how much I have cried since he died he would tell me this too shall pass. Dammit, Pop... My tears are softer now, and on the outside. I keep the rage in check by applying as much love as I can muster at crunch time...
When I was a boy I cried a lot inside. I suppose if I'm honest I'll have to admit than if the tears actually surfaced they were usually accompanied by rage, which I had never learned to handle very well. I probably had reasons. I only ever saw My Dad cry one time in my whole life. I lived nearby at the time; maybe 20 years ago now, and was repairing one of his old cars at the time. He came over and watched for awhile, very quietly. I easily sensed something and asked. Suddenly he began telling me about his cat, which had an abdominal tumor and had to be euthanized. He cried! I was so shaken I didn't know what to say or do. You had to know my Dad to know the moment. I just listened to him while I leaned back against the car looking straight ahead. I couldn't even look at him. It was quite a moment. Then it passed and he acted as if nothing had happened. I will never forget. If he knew how much I have cried since he died he would tell me this too shall pass. Dammit, Pop... My tears are softer now, and on the outside. I keep the rage in check by applying as much love as I can muster at crunch time...
i'll shamelessly offer you my virtual shoulder anytime
Thanks. Weirdest episode that I can recall: I was at a food/nutrition conference at the Culinary Institute of America in Napa, and at a break they told us to wander and try the food samples offered. I paused at the slices of watermelon with a little balsamic vinegar drizzled on them. Never had one before. Hmmm. Popped one in my mouth and immediately began tearing up in front of everyone at how wonderful it was.
What makes Me cry? You might be surprised. I usually am...
when i was younger, i started noticing that my father would tend to get emotional or express his feelings a lot more as i age and feel my mortality i notice that i am much more likely to cloud up and rain too just like dear old dad can a good cry, just like a good laugh make us feel better? my life experience says yes
When I was a boy I cried a lot inside. I suppose if I'm honest I'll have to admit than if the tears actually surfaced they were usually accompanied by rage, which I had never learned to handle very well. I probably had reasons. I only ever saw My Dad cry one time in my whole life. I lived nearby then; maybe 20 years ago now, and was repairing one of his old cars at the time. He came over and watched for awhile, very quietly. I easily sensed something and asked. Suddenly he began telling me about his cat, which had an abdominal tumor and had to be euthanized. He cried! I was so shaken I didn't know what to say or do. You had to know my Dad to know the moment. I just listened to him while I leaned back against the car looking straight ahead. I couldn't even look at him. It was quite a moment. Then it passed and he acted as if nothing had happened. I will never forget. If he knew how much I have cried since he died he would tell me this too shall pass. Dammit, Pop... My tears are softer now, and on the outside. I keep the rage in check by applying as much love as I can muster at crunch time...
I've developed a nasty case of John Boehner disease. Confuses my Better Halfâ¢
i'll shamelessly offer you my virtual shoulder anytime
weird thought: vanderbilt childrens hospital has what i would call cry or prayer rooms (unfortunately they were packed) i tried to go outside for some space but barely made it the front door...
What makes Me cry? You might be surprised. I usually am...
when i was younger, i started noticing that my father would tend to get emotional or express his feelings a lot more as i age and feel my mortality i notice that i am much more likely to cloud up and rain too just like dear old dad can a good cry, just like a good laugh make us feel better? my life experience says yes
On a master naturalist outing today I met a friend of a friend, super nice guy, whose last name is the same as a classmate of mine from high school. Turns out my friend's friend is my classmate's older brother, AND was in my older brother's class. He knew my brother. When we realized this, I stood next to the trail and wept.
On a master naturalist outing today I met a friend of a friend, super nice guy, whose last name is the same as a classmate of mine from high school. Turns out my friend's friend is my classmate's older brother, AND was in my older brother's class. He knew my brother. When we realized this, I stood next to the trail and wept.
