Chasing happy tears
The catharsis that is snackable tear-jerking content
Happy tears: such a strange gift to mankind. Incredibly, no scientist has ever managed to truly explain emotional crying and whilst other species are known to shed tears through pain, we appear to be the only one whose tears can be triggered by our emotions (no, not even elephants). Charles Darwin once declared human tears ‘purposeless’ but I beg to differ. Both the sad and the happy are powerful and important reminders of our humanity.
I’m expecting a gender divide on this post given that women apparently cry much, much more than men - but regardless, my Antidoters nomination this week is the people who create, distribute - and star in - online happy-tears content. Community and family heroes.
There are two types of happy tears. There’s also the doubled-up-laughter tears which are joyous for their cathartic, full-body eruptions (dangerous when suppressed at school assemblies, places of worship, formal business events etc). Laughter is the best medicine and the most powerful antidote of all - a theme to which we’ll return - but this isn’t about those. It’s about the emotional lump-in-the-throat happy tears that prick at our eyes when we feel profoundly moved by something. And these are always personal stories or journeys - stories we connect with because they evoke gratitude or remind us of our own loved ones or deeply-held values.
The power of stories (over dry data or anecdotes) is well acknowledged and indeed abused e.g. when powerful ‘lived experience’ stories warp our perceptions of the prevalence of certain challenges in this world. Books and films have the power to pull us into the emotions of others and reduce us to tears, but they require much more effort from both creator and reader/ viewer than a quick social reel that enables us to witness the love, see the look in the eyes or the body language.
Into this opportunity, flood the video meme creators with the snack-food equivalent: Babies seeing through glasses for the first time; young couples revealing to parents that they’re going to be grandparents; wild animals reunited with the people who reared them; army officers returning from active duty to surprise their children in a classroom. Sob.
Everyone’s triggers are different- borne of a myriad of factors: memories and personal experiences, stress levels or mental state, hormones, alcohol or stimulants. (Indeed weed’s primary marketing hook seems to be its ability to induce this). Parents are particularly sensitive to content featuring children. I, myself, am an emotional schizophrenic. I can come across as cold as I don’t cry easily at trauma that directly affects me. My (unhealthy?) instinct is to steel myself and lock grief, fear or pain within and channel it immediately to practicalities - but yet (or maybe because of that?), I can be a blubbering wreck at a wedding, when watching a sad or happy film or when stuck in a scroll loop of happy-tear memes. Kind of embarrassing.
But I also feel a conflict where much of this content is concerned. It bothers me that we need to capture so many of life’s magic moments through a device lens for potential validation from strangers rather than just be present in the moment, soaking up a precious, private moment for our own memory vaults. Indeed, the camera’s presence no doubt impacts the authenticity of the moment. But at the same time, whilst the algorithm may abuse my sentimental nature, I’m glad of the opportunity to be a voyeur. I’m kind of addicted to these goofy, cheesy, gorgeous reminders of acts of love and compassion. Such an antidote to the doom mongering economy I’ve written about previously. A modern day video equivalent of the 85-million-copies-sold 90s book series ‘Chicken Soup for the Soul’.
With their footage, beautiful soundtracks and captions, they restore our faith in everyday people and the true meaning of the word charity. They show the power of family and community and how sometimes, the most impactful thing we can do is help or delight those in our immediate world rather than shouting angrily into the wind at global crisis after global crisis. The ripple effect I’ve discussed previously.
But will people ever buy books (without child wizards) in that volume again? In this modern world, which of the following will impact more people?:
This story?…
Benet Cerf relates this touching story about a bus that was bumping along a back road in the South: In one seat, a wispy old man sat holding a bunch of fresh flowers. Across the aisle was a young girl whose eyes came back again and again to the man’s flowers. The time came for the old man to get off. Impulsively he thrust the flowers into the girl’s lap. “I can see you love the flowers” he explained, “and I think my wife would like for you to have them. I’ll tell her I gave them to you.” The girls accepted the flowers, then watched the old man get off the bus and walk through the gate of a small cemetery.
‘Chicken Soup for the Soul’ Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen, 1993
…Or the videos below?
Maybe we just have to accept that it’s fine to put the antidote content where the people now are? Whether the people should all be there, and in such numbers and for so many cumulative years of our lives is another question…
Recommendations
My gift to you this week is some happy tears, here for your therapy:
And for Instagram users who want a good cry (use phone): This, this, this, this and this
And just to tell if anyone’s still reading, one here to share with your most inappropriate whatsapp group (if it hasn’t already been)
Parting suggestion: rewatch the 80s film, ‘Steel Magnolias’- the graveyard scene is possibly the greatest example of going from sad to hysterical laughing tears in a split second. All hail Shirley Maclean).