Hello, friends,

Last weekend, I saw Les Mis for the 10^th time.

I think I cried harder this time than any time before (and I cry a lot with this show…okay, I cry a lot with many shows, but still). I saw it with Elise, and although we both said afterward that we should have seen this coming, neither of us was prepared for how much the show would make us think of their friend who died last fall.

It was an intensely emotional experience, but we agreed it was also highly cathartic. It allowed us to process our grief in a way I don’t think anything else has. Later that day and the next, Ellie said they felt like their aura had changed, and when I asked what they meant, the way they described it made me think some healing had taken place. (Not to say they won’t continue to grieve, but it seems to me that a bit of their grief has been metabolized.)

One lyric I knew would hit me differently this time is:

“To love another person is to see the face of God.”

I knew it would hit me differently because of the spiritual journey I’ve been on since I last saw the show 3 years ago. But it also stuck with me because it made me realize something: all of my favorite musicals have connection at their core. Les Mis, Wicked, and Hamilton all have lyrics that celebrate the impact we have on each other.

From Wicked:

“Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”

And from Hamilton:

“You have no control—who lives, who dies, who tells your story.”

When I hear each of those lines, I become (or continue to be) a sobbing mess. Because this idea that we’re all connected, that life is a beautiful interwoven journey, fills my heart with peace, awe, hope, and love.

We can’t control who comes into our life or when, or when they leave our life.

We can’t control what people do in response to our actions.

We can’t control who remembers us or what they say after we’re gone.

But we can choose to open our hearts. We can choose to allow ourselves to be vulnerable and to share our innermost selves. We can give the best of ourselves as often as we can, and we can live with light and love. We can recognize our shared humanity with every single person on the planet and let compassion be our guide.

There’s so much compassion in Les Mis. For as sad as it is (and I mean, a lot of people die), I always come away from it feeling uplifted. I think that’s because of the compassion and love. As scary as it is to open ourselves to love—loving risks heartbreak and grief—I believe love is the greatest gift of this life, and maybe of whatever comes next too. We need love, we need each other, and we need compassion to hold us through the loss that inevitably accompanies such meaningful connection.

Warmly,

Brie

P.S. What love in your life are you celebrating this Valentine’s Day weekend?