Serious question. Where do you feel your feelings?
Are they in your heart, your chest, your feet, or, perhaps, just hanging around in your head with the shopping lists and conversations you haven't had yet?
I hadn't given it much thought until lately.
Of course the really big emotions - grief, shock, in-loveness - are physical, very physical. And when you're in the grip of them, the sensation is all you can think of.
But what about the lesser stuff? I'm in the middle of a Mindfulness course which is proving to be a fascinating and potentially wonderful thing. I haven't written about it before because I'm finding it a bit tricky to grasp. Just when I think I get it completely, the understanding wriggles out of reach. However, our teacher, the lovely Jeannie said something that made me stop and reconsider something fairly fundamental. An emotion is a thought that shows up as a sensation in your body. That's it. So every emotion, is an actual feeling if you pause to work out what and where. How interesting. For the past couple of weeks I've been testing it out. Trying to find a quiet moment in the noise to see what I can feel and where.
And sure enough, Jeannie was right. All day there are twinges and tingles, prickles and heat as my body and brain go through their daily motions of considering and processing my world. Obviously, this isn't a total surprise. When you consider the language of emotions, it's all there. Things stick in the throat, people are sick to their stomach, they have heartache, butterflies and shivers down their spine. It's just I hadn't thought of it for even the inconsequential. The tiny panic when traffic causes a delay, the minor sadness as a cup gets smashed, a fleeting shame of broken promises years ago or the infinitesimal joy at the perfection of buttered toast. I haven't a clue what good will come of knowing this, but I'm pretty sure good will come... Meantime, here's a poem that Jeannie introduced me to. It's by Jelaluddin Rumi a 13th century Persian Muslim poet. The Guest House This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they are a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honourably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice meet them at the door laughing and invite them in. Be grateful for whatever comes, because it has been sent as a guide from beyond.
