Emotions are energy.
Feeling emotions means having an experience in the body.
Being embodied allows us a deeper experience with our emotional and spiritual self. For better or worse, it does.
And this morning, in bed yet at 10:02, I have a hangover. From grief.
Each feeling has a certain frequency or feeling to it, and we each express and experience them in our own way.
I know without a doubt that if I can breathe and be with the sensation of the emotion – in my body whether sitting quietly, observing it, knowing I’m safe even while it erupts from my chest and throat into a massive cry or moving with it, through it – running, dancing, yogaing – I can identify it more clearly.
I can ride the wave of it coming and passing more skillfully.
Emotions are temporary visitors who want to be heard, seen, felt – the they’ll go on their way more peacefully, usually.
If we lock them out, they’ll just keep knocking. Louder. Until we invite them in.
And let me be clear, please, that I’m not advocating for all expression, total vulnerability at all times as the ‘ideal’ nor for stoicism, ‘keep your shit togetherness’ as the goal. Those polarities (duality) can get messy, fast, as we ping pong from one end of the spectrum to the other in attempts to ‘get it right’.
Let go of the duality of ‘this way or that way must be right’ – and instead see the spectrum with me.
Sometimes the healthiest choice is to contain what we feel, not express it, wait for a more safe time to let it loose. This allows us to act, to flee, to get to the other side of a situation where then we can let ourselves crumble if need be. If we can witness our rage and anger and pause – not act out – we can spare others and ourselves the aftermath.
And at some point the healthiest possibility is to feel it all, deeply, and follow it to its natural end when we feel still again. We feel in phases, like layers of a flower opening to reveal the sweet nectar inside, over time. Remember that some blooms close each night as well – envision a time lapse of a flower growing, blooming, opening and closing each day, withering, falling back to the earth. It’s all change, ebb and flow like the weather and time and nature…our feelings change.
Emotional resilience is a colorful spectrum of boundaries, quietness, and flamboyant expression, and it includes all types of visitors.
No emotion needs to be exiled. All emotions can teach us.
And so on.
My work with clients is focused on and in the body, yet it inherently includes the emotional and energetic parts of the person, too. And through embodied practice we at times uncover unknown energies or visitors – some we thought had departed long ago – and we witness them again.
We can learn to use our practice as an uncovering, cleansing, befriending practice toward our whole self. Because wholeness and healing await each of us.
I’d love to hear from you.
How has movement practice helped you emotionally, or how does your increasing/changing embodiment influenced your emotional capacity?
with massive love and gentleness,
PS: My grief hangover came after a movie (Mockingjay Part 2: the scene with Katniss screaming then breaking down crying at Prim’s cat, finally taking the cat in her arms as the one remnant of her sister’s life). It triggered a visceral grief in me, mostly connected to Cha Cha’s passing one month ago.
Goodbye my sweet cat and thank you for being by my side during the emotional spectrum that was the decade we spent together. Thank you for helping me sit with all I’ve felt, endured and celebrated.
Thank you for the kind words when she passed. Xo