I just got home from a glorious PSGW weekend of music making with 100 musicians from all over the US. The music was so loving, so intimate, so beautiful. I got to sit in a circle of some of the finest musicians I have ever known and led them in a jam on Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. (Anybody too grown-up to join in that song is way too grown-up for me.) I suddenly felt like I was holding my (now grown-up) toddler sons on my lap, as they held my grandchildren, and at the same time my mother held me, and her mother held her. We were a many-generations-chain of parents holding small children, and we were singing all together.
This reminded me of something, and I thought I might share it.
If I feel tears close behind my eyes, I have a use for them. If I put my mind rigorously on the goodness and beauty of this world, and the goodness and beauty of the people around me, and remember whatever glimpses I can hold of my own beauty and goodness, then every teardrop that falls is a piece of confusion falling away forever.