Cry me a river...

"It is some relief to weep; grief is satisfied and carried off by tears." - Publius Ovidius Naso, known as Ovid in the English-speaking world, a Roman poet best known for the Metamorphoses, a 15-book continuous mythological narrative written in the meter of epic

Sorrows may humanise the human race; and tears might be the showers that fertilise the world; but tears are certainly words, the heart cannot express. Tears are the silent language of grief; and when in grief, let your tears pour, let them water your soul; but waste not fresh tears over old grief nor cry over spilled milk, for however much you may cry, it will not rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts.

Instead, heavy hearts, like heavy clouds in the sky, are best relieved by the letting of a little water; for our eyes may need to be washed by our tears, once-in-a-while, so that we can see Life with a clearer view again. Tears may also be the safety valve of the heart when too much pressure is, laid upon it; but in truth, a tear dries quickly when it is shed for the troubles of others. Yet, more often than not, for many a man - the creature who refuses to be what he is capable of, and instead turns into a creature of greed - the show of sorrow is nothing but delight in disguise that results in the show of, or cause for, cry me a river.

Possibility

When someone approaches you with a story that exceeds the usual bounds of possibility and is extravagant or immoderate, or is a sob story to obtain your sympathy, cry me a river is what we normally say in response. In fact, the fuller version of it would go as follows: Cry me a river, build a bridge, and do us all a favour: just jump off it and drown if possible.

It tells the moaning person to shut up and that you do not care. It is an expression which also mean, I have been through worse, you are being a drama queen, so stop complaining or sniveling.

Drama queen is an expression said of a person given to, often excessively emotional performances, or reactions; and to people who acts as though things are much worse than they really are. Cry me a river, is also used when someone weeps or demonstrates grief profusely or excessively in the presence of others - especially when everyone knows that it is not an honest expression of grief. An example of this would be if Brutus in William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar were to say at the funeral oration for Caesar, "It broke my heart to lose you, Caesar; but you did not go alone.

A part of me went with you the day fate took you away from me. If tears could build a stairway, and heartaches make a lane, I would walk our way to heaven, and bring you back again. In life, everyone loved you dearly; in death, they love you still; and in our hearts, you hold a place no one could ever fill."

The irony of it is Caesar looked upon Brutus as a son: Et tu, Brute; meaning 'You too Brutus' were Julius Caesar's last words when stabbed by Brutus, one he considered his best friend; and that stab by Brutus was the most unkindest cut of all which, in all probability, dispossessed Caesar of his life through shock and disgust.

How many Brutus' have we experienced in life? History is replete with instances of brothers and sisters becoming Brutus', and sons and saviours' turning out to be Brutus'.

When a friend transforms into a Brutus is when friendship turns far more tragic than love. The ingratitude of men may make them say that gratitude is a sickness suffered by dogs; but the truth is; ingratitude, which is sharper than a serpent's tooth, is a horrible disease that belongs to the callous rocks, and not to feeling humans.

A grateful dog is a being much more developed than, ungrateful humans; because the selfishness in men permits not the realisation that ingratitude is poison to the heart; the dog is wiser. After all, our conscience is the measure of the honesty of our selfishness. Man has not learned to listen to it carefully.

If he did, he would realise that selfishness is, not living as one wishes to live; it is asking others to live as one wishes, by imposing our beliefs and expectations on others.

Here is what Oscar Wilde says on the subject in The Soul of Man and Prison Writings: Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live.

And unselfishness is letting other people's lives alone, not interfering with them. Selfishness always aims at creating around it an absolute uniformity of type. Unselfishness recognises infinite variety of type as a delightful thing, accepts it, acquiesces in it; enjoys it. It is not selfish to think for oneself.

Neighbour

A man who does not think for himself does not think at all. It is grossly selfish to require of one's neighbour that he should think in the same way, and hold the same opinions.

Why should he? If he can think, he will probably think differently. If he cannot think, it is monstrous to require, thought of any kind from him. A red rose is not selfish because it wants to be a red rose. It would be horribly selfish if it wanted all the other flowers in the garden to be both red and roses.

What makes ingratitude innate to humans? The best and most beautiful things in the world are, not seen nor touched. They must be, felt with the heart. Yet, one of the saddest things about people is that their most important thoughts and feelings often go unspoken and barely understood; yet ingratitude shows.

Man reasons and becomes introspective when he suffers. He is anxious to know the cause of his sufferings, to learn how it came about, and whether it is just or unjust that he should so suffer. Yet, he takes his acts of ingratitude as it comes and does not analyze it.

It seems as if, to be ungrateful were his right. No wonder that spoilt people live rotten lives; they fail to see the miracle of raindrops because of their own tears. Ingratitude rules the lives of such men; so much so, they are ungrateful to themselves because of their inability to appreciate the gifts and potentials within them, and leave them untapped to fail being human.

Desire

Such men live, dominated by desire: for when they achieve their desire, another desire comes; and when that is accomplished, another and another and another arrive in a show of ingratitude.

The irony of it is that these are the very men who will complain about ingratitude when others rise above them: for them, ingratitude is the essence of vileness; and such men are treason to mankind.

Earth produces nothing worse than an ungrateful man who denies a receipt of kindness bestowed upon him; conceals it and makes no return for it; and most ungratefully, forgets it.

We love a nothing by loving such a man - an ingrate. For such men, let us together, cry me a river; or else, the ingrates will pretend and proceed to cry me a river so large that they would build an agricultural town around it; use it to irrigate crops, solve the world hunger problem; and win the noble peace prize. Such is the irony of life.

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