Why are tears and crying always related back to the ocean?

A wave of tears. An ocean of tears.

Are you the ocean? Or are you crying the ocean?

Oceans are slumbering, somber. The slowly turning currents hold little zeal—sparkling, yet morose. The warm surface is inviting for tourists who come and go as the seasons change. Yet, down in the bottomless abyss, it is frigid. The warmth cannot pierce these innermost depths.

Once in a while, the oceans rage, culminating in vicious and destructive whirling winds and waves. But, they always return to a meditative quiet. I suppose that on some accounts, this is accurate with the metaphor. Crying has been proven to have relaxing effects and help regulate emotions. Most people feel better after they cry.

But all this implies that tears are only shed from anger, from a vengeance. The occasional turbulent oceanic disruption isn’t a manifestation of all the emotions that seduce the tears from someone. You should cry for the bad times but also for the good. You should cry for losses but also out of happiness. You should cry from heartbreak but also from laughter.

I don’t want to be an ocean, to cry an ocean.

Volcanoes hold more veracity in regards to analogous relationship to crying than bodies of water do.

Crying isn’t something that comes out of the blue; it is something that is created and nurtured. It comes in fits of passion, but that passion is always brewing beneath the surface. It’s churning deep within you or, for the sake of the analogy, deep below the crust of the earth.

Once the bubbling emotions slowly accumulated are released, there is a chance for rejuvenation, for growth. Everything in the path of the mellifluous lava gets a do-over. In a way, this is how you feel when you finish crying. You can’t change what happened, but now, you can begin again with a clean slate.  

You are the ocean, and I am the volcano.

Do you not cry over books or movies? Do you not cry for your success or failures? Do you not cry when you are reunited with someone you’ve missed dearly?

Suppressing your tears, suppressing what you feel doesn’t make you tough. It makes you volatile and distant. A life without crying is a life without emotion or grounding connections. Acknowledge what makes you happy. Acknowledge what makes you sad. How else will you make meaning from the meaninglessness of the world?

I wish you would cry.