‘Feelings, Wo -o -o-, feelings’ This was a saccharine sweet song written by Morris Albert that was on regular radio rotation in the seventies. That decade promoted feelings as though they were a product meant to be experienced as one might sniff perfume: The Scent of Life.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-iW0FVLd-3M
A family friend once told me that she thought I was more female than my sister. I understood how she could make that observation because I was not averse to expressing the contents of my heart and yes, my sister had many characteristics often attributed to maleness. I shared this comment with my mom and she wanted no further discussion on the matter because she thought that meant her two offspring were Gay. The irony here is that Mom nicknamed this friend Bagel on account of the fact that she was Jewish and a Lesbian. We three treated her as part of the family. After the comment incident, Bagel was disowned by my mother. It wouldn’t be the first time that feelings bubbled over in her heart from things that were said or imagined.
I have an angel of a wife who takes emotion seriously. I would say she doesn’t just live life, she feels it, much like the alien Empath Deanna Troi on Star Trek: TNG played by actress Marina Sirtis. Whereas I don’t have a problem acknowledging my feelings, and I am not puzzled by their presence, my wife is often so surprised by her feelings that she wants to get to the root of their existence. I take them for granted and roll with them. The only feeling I consciously try to avoid is anger, all the other ones make my life wonderfully interesting.
Love is wonderful. Especially first love, new love, when you are astonished all the time. You tell everyone who will listen; ‘I never felt this way before!’ Your heart beats to a fresh rhythm. Hundreds of years ago we believed that emotion sprung from the heart because that’s where we feel those feelings most; at the heart of the matter. I recently felt surprised by my emotional reaction to leaving an apartment I rented to be closer to my loving partner while she attended to her dying father. My feelings about my temporary relocation started out with noble acceptance, moved to necessary confinement, then to peaceful resignation. On moving day I was sad to leave, grateful for the shelter: What had seemed a prison turned out to be a much needed sanctuary.
We can relate to another’s feelings. We can walk a bit in their shoes. We can empathize due to our past experiences. We can try to understand through mutual circumstances, but we can’t logically feel as another feels because we aren’t in their body. We may all have felt love, hate, disappointment or anxiety but feelings are uniquely situational. I alone, own my feelings. I can share them. People can say they get me, yet I’ll bristle if someone says. “I know how you feel.”
That’s simply impossible!
Catch My Drift? 