Big Cry Virus
Sources: Tales From the Night Rainbow - Koko Willis and Pali Jae Lee - US Special Forces Veterans- All of Us going through it.
First let me say I’m culpable in all of this.
The state of the world. My ruined relations. Negligent homicide or the fog of war, when it’s done it doesn’t matter.
Everyone knows when they’re guilty, it’s just no-one wants to own up and bear the consequences. And the consequences are this whole mess we’re in together.
I’m not trying to dodge blame. I know it’s my fault. But .. I know you can feel your part in it too.
So I’ll tell you a story that helped me find a way out of this horrible guilty feeling. Maybe it can help.
You see I grew up in America, where I was told becoming a man means learning how to fight and win. I was taught how to ball up my fists, spit, and then beat my enemy into submission. Manhood is bragging about how many women you’ve had. Manhood is taking advantage of weakness before they see it in you. Most of all manhood is about being constantly terrified. Of other men humiliating you. Of women rejecting you. Of being laughed at and left alone.
The only way to win this game is to be a Warrior! Someone no-one can mess with!
You can do this with brute force, coercion, or money, but win this game you must. It’s your life’s purpose as a man. Opt out and be ridiculed as a sissy and a loser.
At least that’s what I grew up being told, and most kids conformed to these rules - severely punishing those who didn’t.
Things have changed a bit lately and I think I know why people are scared.
We’ve been infected by the empathy bug, and this could ruin everything.
What happened to me is, I had a lot of time to myself. Partially because I had very few friends left to talk to.
We didn’t wanna talk about what was hurting. We had some pretty bad memories together. Some of them were talking suicide, and I didn't want to go there.
I thought the veterans administration should handle this stuff, but I realize now our unit lacked the leadership needed to integrate back in society after the wars. When the war inside our heads started raging back at home, we didn't stand up for each other, we didn't define the mission, and we left a lot of good men behind.
So when coronavirus hit and everybody had to stay home, it was an election year. People were locked up arguing online full time. You had to pick a side - red or blue, god or the devil.
Everything was controversial. People thought what we did in the Middle East should be reckoned with, and we should be held accountable. A lot of people, including myself, felt what we did at the time was necessary. For God and Country. And you know, we did it to protect our families back home.
But I couldn't justify what happened to that little girl. I couldn't come up with any purpose for her death in my world. I should have overruled my CO and helped her. When she popped out in front of our Humvee that day, we ran her down like a dog, and I could have saved her, but our “safety” was more important.
Whenever the subject came up, I’d start raging and crying, and I couldn’t control it. It always ended the conversation.
Later I’d have to build my walls back up, so I wasn't right on the edge of fury, or breaking down in tears, which was shameful for me as a tough man and a soldier. I didn’t want my friends to see my pain, so I just kind of isolated myself, and eventually we all stopped calling.
The one person that didn't leave me alone was my mom. She was a pain in my behind, because she's super liberal, which is not me.
She’d call and rant about politics, try to get under my skin. Maybe I was the only one that she had to talk to - being so old and ornery. But she had a big heart for her son, right? She wanted to get through to me in some way and we fought really loud on the phone a lot. It was our way of staying connected, I guess.
I think it annoyed the neighbors. I had this one neighbor I didn't care if it did though. You know, he's like this peace and love hippie.. polar opposite of me. You'd hear him singing to his plants, spouting this Kumbaya shit all the time with his girlfriends. They’d have pagan rituals. I'm sure they were doing some kind of psychedelics or whatever back there. You'd hear peals of laughter, and it was torture for me, being by myself, so bitter and alone - hearing dis fake living his best life, rainbows and unicorns, gold pixie dust all over the place like it was a real thing.
I yelled at him a few times, over the fence, “keep it down weirdo!”, but really, he was just a convenient scapegoat for what I was going through, especially with my mother. He seemed to have loving, healthy relationships, and that's why I hated him.
You could tell he made his friends feel like family and people would come to his house for refuge. He had an acceptance of being I couldn't give anymore. Somehow it had gone away from my experiences through life, and I was jealous of what I had lost.
One day I was really going at it with my mom on the phone. I was screaming at her, blaming her for everything, and you know what, it never occurred to me that I might have an affect on this guy. That he could be struggling with what I was putting out there in the atmosphere.
I put her on speakerphone so I could pace around the house ranting loudly - and out of nowhere, he just blew up and yelled at me over the fence.
“Ho! Please! Do us a god blessah favor and shut the fuck up!!”
I was dumbstruck by this outcry. This guy I thought was so weak, so accepting of everyone in the world. Good! He was angry. An angry hypocrite. But he struck a chord in his voice I hadn’t heard before. It seemed our constant fighting had overwhelmed his joyful spirit.
I tried to enjoy his downfall. But I couldn’t. On that first day, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I affected this person next door. This gentle individual, who still believed we could work it out as humans. Something I was incapable of grasping. I kept looking for ways to be angry at him, to find fault, but all I could access was sorrow.
I dwelt on how much pain I heard in his voice, and I began whispering “I'm sorry.” I couldn't stop crying. And I couldn't stop saying I'm sorry. I had an urgent need to take responsibility for what I’d done in my life. Starting with my most recent mistake with the guy next door.
My resident anger was somehow far away. Everything was sadness. A deep down pain of realizing all I had done in this world to get to this point. I had to account for it.
I couldn't stop saying I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Every time I would think of that little afghani girl. I'm sorry. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Please forgive me.
The second day was worse. I couldn't see. I couldn't even go to the bathroom. I was wracked in seizures on the floor. I could barely breathe through the tears, so I opened all the windows, not caring about privacy. I’m sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please forgive me, please forgive me. Please forgive me. I sobbed at the windowsill.
I remembered from my childhood, when I felt under attack, I would find a dark corner where I could feel safe, and I would sing to myself. A song no one had ever heard before.
It was a peculiar feeling to have that ability to make a song never heard before and again. To me it was a vessel and a blindfold to go over an emotional waterfall. To let go of fear.
Towards the end of the second day, the tears had slowed down, but strangely I didn’t want to stop. I was drinking water to keep them coming. I was suddenly thankful for my life and happy for the things that got me through tough times. To go somewhere quiet.
I started thinking about the nature of my grief, and my mood changed like a dawning sky.
The dark times became hues of purple and peach, remembering all the people who’d helped me through. Even my insufferable mother, loving me despite all my stubbornness.
Everyone that pissed me off in life, pushed me over an edge, or stood in my way like a hurdle I needed to clear, or inspired me like a mountain I needed to climb.
I was so full of gratitude from that point on. I just shed rivulets of grateful tears. Saying, Thank you Thank you. Thank you.. for all of these things I’ve been gifted. All these people I’ve been honored to be with. No one escaped my heartfelt thanks, especially my neighbor, who’d gotten me to this point of breakdown. He was the last one I couldn’t stop thanking.
Then I thought to myself, maybe I could switch it up and project something different. I’ve really yelled some terrible stuff over the years.. But now I thought, maybe the next time I made a noise I could say something new and hard. I could say “I love you” and see what happens.
Like my grandparents used to say. ”It ain’t enough to just show up at church, you gotta sing the hymns! You gotta live the word!”
I never really understood what they meant until I started on that third day of my big cry. I was muttering “I love you, I love you. I love you.” I said it to myself at first, with the mindset of getting used to it. It was new to me, and I had to fool myself by saying it to a neighbor first. In doing so, I somehow returned it back to me.
I had to stop crying.
I started chanting out loud. Louder and louder and louder. First in my own room, and then I thought, this isn't working, I'm not stopping the tears, they're still coming. I was really worried I’d never leave the room or lead a normal life in this state.
So I opened the windows a little bit more, and I heard this strange noise coming from next door. It was the sound of my neighbor crying. Softly but unmistakable.
I don't know what happened, but I immediately knew what to do, and tears streaming down my face, I said “I love you. I love you. I Love You!”. I said it louder and louder, loud enough for him to hear. Loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. It didn't stop the crying for either one of us. But it did help.
I started putting it all together.
I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.
Saying it over and over and over again. And by the end of the third day it started working! Slowly my tears ebbed, and then they dried up.
But my neighbor didn't stop crying. I could hear him all day and night. I don't know if he stayed by the window like me, but it seemed like a cry for help. A call out to lost family.
I didn't know what to do. But I wanted to help. So after the third day of his crying, I went over to check on him. I brought him some avocados from my backyard.
Chris greeted me warmly, and he said, “Thank you for the food! And the experience of being told I love you by a neighbor I thought hated me!”.
I said, “Hey, you know, whatever this is, we're going through it together.” And he knew exactly what I meant.
He gifted me a book about an old way of life on the islands of Hawaii. It was called “Tales from the Night Rainbow” and it describes living right, known as “being pono”.
It said we were all born as perfect bowls of light, emanating this light as pure love. However, if you hold on to bitterness or jealousy, these heavy stones in your bowl will take the place where the light can shine.
In the practice of forgiveness and reconciliation called Ho’oponopono, they recite these words, face to face, in order to leave these dark stones behind.
I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you. I’m sorry, please forgive me, thank you, I love you.
They bring people in conflict and place them, chest deep, nose to nose in the receding tide. Let the ocean take away their hurt feelings, and bring new commitment to unity and peace.
This is how I felt about my big cry, and I asked, “have you ever experienced something like this before?”, we laughed. It was a relief to laugh, but we wondered what was happening to us.
After that, maybe my ears changed, because over the next few weeks, as I walked around my neighborhood, I could hear more and more people crying.
At their windows, on their porches, in their backyards, sobbing. Unable to stop. I wondered if this was some sort of new tik tok trend. I didn't connect the dots right away, but it seemed if one neighbor could hear the others crying, they could catch it like a flu.
Then they’d want to pass it on. Wailing by their open windows at night, like lovelorn cats.
This spread throughout the village, and we started to see a change in people. They went through this experience, and you’d see them walking around afterwards, with this incandescent glow, like a pregnant person or an alien.
Lighter than most, they looked for a way to connect where needed, for some way to be helpful.
Crews formed overnight. Good things started to happen. No more wasted time and effort on hurtful things. People’s health was improving. In our community the Big Cry Virus was spreading exponentially.
The rest of the society was not catching on. Many other viruses were proliferating and accelerating. The government was involved in mandating vaccines. Artificial Intelligence was employed, and Rapid Response became a skin patch. There were wars over body autonomy.
Meanwhile the Big Cry Virus was giving a transformation that no-one could use for profit. And so it was shunned and feared.
Technology was creating more problems. Everyone was fighting, but in contrast, it seemed like those of us who’d caught this new lifestyle virus, were rejecting all of this.
We were pitching in to build commonwealth in our neighborhoods. As a matter of survival, we were coming together, and taking care of each other. Isolation as a social norm was beginning to melt away.
That’s when I made my biggest mistake. Naming this movement the “Church of the Big Cry”. I thought it was the best delivery system to share the virus, and change the world. Foolish pride, I guess. I never said the virus made you perfect.
We started performing organized rituals, and the virus, or trend, or realization, began spreading to many communities.
Our methods were picked up worldwide, to the point where I got a little scared of the impact it was having. The reflection that most people didn’t want to see.
You see it changed me forever. I would never pick up a gun, or try to hurt someone again. I couldn't bear it.. because, you know, I honestly don’t want to have to cry for three days again.
I want everybody to have this experience - to be this disabled. And I know, historically I’m an asshole, so maybe not everyone needs it. But for me, It was a revelation.
The virus is a dangerous development for people that sell the narrative that we're all ruthless competitors for an ever shrinking pie. It’s also been deemed a threat to public health, public stability, and public control.
I’ve had to spirit myself away for a little while, but I'm telling you this can’t be bottled up and sold anymore. We all have access to this power, and always will.
You know how to get started in your grief. How to come through it. There are ways out there and places of communion. You'll meet people who may seem like they’re throwbacks from a long lost culture.
They offer you love .. expecting no return. And they’ll want you to take the opportunity .. to be responsible for everything around you.
The other day in my garden, I realized I’d better make this recording, because there's many different forces and choices in the world.
To be offered this choice can seem like a threat. To believe no-one is above redemption is an idea maybe this world isn’t ready for.. there's a lot of minds that would rather break than sway .. But we got our little cross-pollination out there. Once the seeds are planted, and tended, and cared for and become strong. You never know how big it could grow.
It could be the beginning of something larger we can't understand. Like our next big step in evolution. I’m so grateful to be here right now. Bearing witness.
So now I see this ladybug on my arm, which isn't really a ladybug, but a government mini-drone. I can feel its mandibles sinking in, and the inoculation injection flowing into my bloodstream, and I know I can't stop this mutation, or retribution that’s been ipatched on me. I’m glad this message got out before they got me.
Remember from our past. From our religions long ago. A way of life back in balance with nature.
I know these things will find us when they’re needed.
I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.
