I woke up this morning crying. It’s been quite a while since I’ve cried. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop, but for most of my life I was programmed not to cry. So part of me is saying to me “Good for you, you’re back on track. Let the tears flow, release, let it happen, keep your mind out of the way.” But at the same time, somewhere in my body, there’s a reflex telling me to stop, and a voice in my head saying.” Enough already, what are you crying about anyway? Go check your email, get a cup of tea why don’t you.” But I’m sticking with the tears this morning. I like the wetness flowing out of my eyes and down my cheeks. Until I started working with Marc, I almost never cried. Crying meant a few tears welling up in my eyes followed by a knee jerk reaction to stop. Now I can keep at it for a long time and as strange as this sounds, it makes me happy to cry. It means I’m in the work. I’m sure these Friday morning tears are because I got to my homework this week. I’ve been slack about that for a few weeks. I have this yo yo pattern in the work. I claw my way up to a new place, then let myself slide back down. Once I get to the bottom, I can start rolling back up the string. This last slide was not so far down and I’m on my way back up already. Two weeks ago I had a dream that I was holding a plant. It was a bit drooped. A voice, The Animus no less, says to me, “It’s just been repotted. There’s rich, good soil and a bigger pot to grow in. It needs a little time to adjust, then it will grow strong and flower.” The plant is me, of course. I’ve been in the dormant readjusting place lately, but this Friday morning I’m watering that plant with my tears. I want to flower. I don’t know exactly how to do that. I think all I can do to start is to do my homework and to keep crying.

Last week I dreamt I was in a house with a man and he kept encouraging me to go out. I was trying to avoid it but he keeps after me and finally I shout, “Don’t make me go. The rapist is out there.” The man again is the Animus pushing me out into the world, into life. My homework was to say to Him, “I’m afraid, please come out with me.” I did do my homework this week, but I was despairing. I said the words and I felt some longing for Him, but nothing was coming back. This morning I feel Him in these tears. I’m ready to go on now. I think I’m willing to grow but I can’t see the direction yet. As always I know that if I come here to write and ask for His help, it will come. Sometimes I only know that in my head, right now I know that in my important places. So, I’ll keep doing my homework, and I’ll keep crying, and I’ll hope for a bud to form soon.