A Letter from an Ocean of Tears
As an Enneagram Type 8, my first instinct has always been to react to events with anger and aggression. I believed this reactivity helped me survive, but over time, I saw how it often created more problems than solved.
I still voice my opinions, but I’ve come to see that doing so is, at best, a small action. I’m also working on breaking the habit of preaching to people. That’s a tough one. I grew up with a father, “the Colonel,” who talked at me rather than to me. He wasn’t particularly interested in what I thought or felt. His voice rings in my ears even now: “You need to… You should feel…”
Early in my Diamond Approach® work, someone said, “Anger is a secondary emotion.” At first, I resisted. But with time, I’ve found this to be true. Beneath the anger, there’s always hurt. For thirty years, when anger appears, I ask, “Where’s the hurt?”
I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness,
the astonishing light of your own being.
Hafiz
This shift in perspective has been transformative, especially in how it connects to compassion. As a Type 8, compassion wasn’t a natural part of my personality. It took years of inner work to “open up” to it. But once it did, compassion became one of my life’s most profound forces for change.
Another big realization came around aggression. For most of my life, aggression felt inseparable from anger or opposition. But I’ve come to see aggression differently—as an aspect of the life force itself. It’s the energy of growth and expansion: a seed sprouting, a tree growing, even the universe expanding. It’s not about confrontation; it’s about vitality and movement.
Today, I resonate with Eckhart Tolle’s sitting on that bench while transformation had its way with him. Social media and newsfeeds bombard me with chaos and demands to take sides. Yet, presence keeps a gentle hand on me despite being in a crucible—a blast furnace reshaping me in ways I can’t control.
When I take sides, I lose this presence. Sitting in the crucible challenges me to remain in “not knowing.” It’s an act of basic trust, especially as it activates young, vulnerable parts of me that scream in terror and need.
My heart has become capable of every form:
It is a pasture for gazelles and a convent for Christian monks,
And a temple for idols and the pilgrim’s Ka’ba,
And the tables of the Torah and the book of the Qur’an.
I follow the religion of Love:
Whatever way Love’s camels take,
That is my religion and my faith.
ibn Arabi
What arises isn’t the Eight’s classic warrior stance—fighting for what’s right—but a blend of compassion and strength. It’s a kind of heart courage that holds everything and welcomes it all, no matter how painful or uncertain.
I remember an experience from a Diamond Approach retreat years ago. During an exercise on nonconceptual awareness, I experienced myself as pure awareness—a shiny, black field of only awareness. A profound action emerged in that space: “I will have all of me.” This awareness extended in all directions, gathering every hidden, unknown part of myself. It wasn’t about fixing anything or lighting up the darkness—it was about wholeness. I wanted to live from the totality of who I am, the good, the bad, and the ugly.
These days, my heart breaks anew with every report from a suffering world. Letting go of my beliefs and positions is a constant invitation to expand. Each release brings up hidden parts of myself, sparking an intense and illuminating alchemical process.
This pain is no intellectual exercise—it’s a visceral, existential dilemma, like the caterpillar dissolving in the cocoon. Yet, amidst it all, I see love and beauty everywhere. The “ruin of the heart” makes perfect sense to me now. It’s not a failure but a necessary breaking open, a doorway to something greater.
Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead, let life live through you. And do not worry that your life is turning upside down. How do you know that the side you are used to is better than the one to come?
Rumi
I recall sharing with Irv, one of my early Diamond Approach teachers, the tender, teary effects my work with compassion was having on me. Irv responded, “Ocean of tears, ocean of tears,” This sharing comes from the ocean of tears.
A single drop of water became a pearl,
When it joined the ocean of love.
Yunus Emre