In Praise of Naked Abasement

In Praise of Naked Abasement

     Sometimes, the stiff-upper lip is exactly in order; the stoic biting back of pain; the calm control in the eye of the storm; the disciplined tamping down of debauchery and excess. And then other times, in the words of Tom Stoppard:
“I don’t believe in behaving well. I don’t believe in debonair relationships. …  I believe in mess, tears, pain, self-abasement, loss of self-respect, nakedness. Not caring doesn’t seem much different from not loving.”
                            –Henry, The Real Thing
     So maybe today I’ll pin my messy, leaking heart on my sleeve; press send on the inappropriately emotional email instead of delete; open the second (or third) bottle of wine and eat the last piece of chocolate cake; let it all fly for a while before the storm recedes and the waters are calm once again…and yet beneath the quiet, waiting to arise, the next needful, naked abasement.