There is something mystical to this concept, for some of us, and the mystique eludes me. Instead of being afraid of it, I am fascinated by it---drawn like a moth to flame.
Perhaps it is my nature as well as my current position in life that allow me to observe the inability of some to do what comes naturally to me: FEEL. I have no filter nor do I construct sandbag levees against the floods of my emotions. I simply immerse myself in them as they come.
So much of what many of us do, in my observation, is refuse to allow these little gems of the human condition to entire our consciousness, our daily existence. From moment to moment, from day to day, these weary travelers approach our counters, ring the bell and ask for a key to a room in our hearts and our heads. Some of us offer a comfortable bed, a dry roof and a warm meal; come in, sit, stay awhile. Some of us throw up the 'No Vacancies' sign and turn them away.
Many of the most important people in my life are such individuals. They stare their emotions and feelings straight in the eye and refuse them a place to rest. If you do not feel, then how do you live? For someone who drinks or drugs, this avoidance is as easy as taking a drink or doing a line. In our world of Western thought we have derived and created many terms for numerous 'non-feeling' types: narcissist, emotionally-unavailable, emotionally crippled; I guess we could even go so far as to delve into the concept of 'macho' or the 'man's man.' This may all be relevant to an extent, but it does not explain the lack of emotion in our female counterparts.
My life without feeling would be nothing. It would not be life. It would be existence, and for me, existing is not enough. I love. I feel pain. I cry...a lot. I feel anxiety and angst and sadness. All of these things are not to be feared but embraced for they are those things which make us human.
I guess the reason for this entry is the struggle with people in my life who refuse to feel, whether it be those interactions I seek everyday or those old skeletons collecting dust in the closet. My parents do not feel, and at times this leaves me baffled, discouraged and even bewildered. I love them. I wish to share their lives with them, but they chose to distance themselves from me. Many significant people in my life have chosen to shut me out, shown me the sign and pointed to the door. If only some of them knew how wonderful life can be if you just put the coffee on, let your guard down and invite me and all of those feelings in. They are not to be feared but to be embraced. Accept them for what they are, they do not go away. They will simply sit outside of the window in the pouring rain, watching, waiting, wishing that you will let them inside.
I let them inside. Everyday. Every moment. Always. They are not always kind and they are not always joyous, forgiving or monumental. They are, however constant, necessary and healthy. In all of their burden, they allow me to share with the world what I hold inside and who I am. I invite anyone I know and love to do the same. I invite you, unknown reader, to do the same.
Just as a watercolor takes many forms---sometimes saturated and wispy, barely reminiscent of color; sometimes bold and intense, screaming from the page---emotions are much the same. Fear not, for they are your life-line. Resist them, and every moment, a tiny part of your soul dies.
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