Warum wir manchmal wieder wie kleine Kinder weinen sollten
It is a sign of the supreme wisdom of small children that they have no shame or compunction about bursting into tears.
They have a more accurate and less pride-filled sense of their place in the world than a typical adult: they know that they are only extremely small beings in a hostile and unpredictable realm, that they can't control much of what is happening around them, that their powers of understanding are limited and that there is a great deal to feel distressed, melancholy and confused about.
As we age, we learn to avoid being, at all costs, that most apparently repugnant - and yet in fact deeply philosophical - of creatures: the crybaby.
But moments of losing courage belong to a brave life.
If we do not allow ourselves frequent occasions to bend, we will be at far greater risk of one day fatefully snapping.
When the impulse to cry strikes, we should be grown up enough to cede to it as we did in our fourth or fifth years.
We should repair to a quiet room, put the duvet over our head and allow despondency to have its way.
There is in truth no maturity without an adequate negotiation with the infantile and no such thing as a proper grown-up who does not frequently yearn to be comforted like a toddler.
If we have properly sobbed, at some point in the misery an idea - however minor - will at last enter our mind and make a tentative case for the other side: we'll remember that it would be quite pleasant and possible to have a very hot bath, that someone once stroked our hair kindly, that we have one and a half good friends on the planet and an interesting book still to read - and we'll know that the worst of the storm may be ebbing.
Aus dem sehr empfehlenswerten Buch “A Therapeutic Journey: Lessons from the School of Life” von Alain de Botton