The Problem with Emotional Stability. {poetry}
{Photo credit: Jennifer Moiles}
Thou shalt conform, perform, and be happy.
What if circumstances and relationships are deplorable and ridiculous?
Well then, something is wrong with you. Do you understand?
Aye, it must be hormonal then.
Shall we medicate or smother?
The war we see from afar — it’s not ours; not worth our angst. We can’t do anything about it anyway.
The starving children and forsaken mothers — they’re not our problem either. Born of stupid mistakes. Not worth the price of our tears. Their breasts hold the ills of the world; bear more than most.
The sick, lonely, addicted, unemployed. Consequences for one’s own actions are a brutal reality, we believe.
The troubled child who doesn’t fit in will learn to suck it up.
The broken adult who spun a glorious heartfelt web, and we spit on it — he’ll work in fast food and still the bills will go unpaid.
The violent criminal: Sick, not like us. Too bad he didn’t have better parents.
The glamorous celebrity and the politician who once believed in their extraordinary visions and infinite possibility are routinely eviscerated in tabloids — in Real News and fake. We ogle, laugh, and condemn, and deplore children who taunt and bully.
We know, too, the worker bee who works, believes, holds it in, holds it up, shows up and turns it out because ‘good’ people can, and do. Whose heart implodes.
There is nothing to anger, suffocate or depress a soul here.
We tell ourselves to live by the truth of positive memes: emotional stability is a virtue.
Emotionally stable.
Emotionally stagnant.
What is the difference?
Stable = unwavering; same all the time, predictable; positive.
Stagnant = unwavering; same all the time, predictable; negative.
True?
Do it this way, do it everyday.
It’s the way we’ve always done, the way you are expected to do.
Complaining is not advisable; dreaming — imagining — is not efficient.
Brilliantly radiant and complex beings turn… beige.
Become heavy, stuck, lethargic, dull. Flattened, like a sticky pancake.
Congealed in turbidity.
A swamp.
Eventually grow to love and become protectresses of the swamp; dare not travel outside its boundaries.
Beware! An emotional swamp is a dark and treacherous landscape.
Like standing water, emotional energy turns brackish and infectious if it sits stagnant for too long, harnessing its capacity to cause dis-ease, virulent and contagious.
When our visceral responses to our world are denied outward expression — stopped at the door — choking us, not allowed to dance in the daylight of existence, our cells will idle, suffocate, eventually collapse. The dead tissue, and dead dreams, will accumulate and implode within us, causing certain sickness. This sickness grows large and dark and haunting. With each denial, it naturally expands in girth, velocity, and its propensity to explode. The damage it will do may be of storm-wind proportions. Or it will simply, silently, maliciously erode…
For some, this will be catastrophic.
Medication is not the antidote for this sickness. It arrives far too late to the party, and smooths only the very surface of the lake.
This thing you are holding, that every woman has held before.
A thing in her Heart: Agony. Sadness. Hers, and the world’s.
A dis-ease that could take down a nation.
Love that could eradicate Winter.
These are among the things that cannot be measured or controlled by science, for their magnificence cannot be contained.
Be sad and know that it is good! Appropriate, and necessary.
Be angry and rage! Sans guilt. Holler. Stomp. Cry. Say out loud the words that represent what feels true! Refuse to be erased.
Love with the fierceness of your entire being: Gaia’s indignation.
We are, by nature, bipolar. Yin and Yang. Masculine and Feminine. Active and Restful. Of Sun and Moon; Tides, Storms, Trees, Water, and Earth.
In light of our place among the wildness of Nature, the delusion of emotional stability is inhumane! Impossible.
We can be assured that sadness — and everything else — will arrive at our door.
What can we do?
Invite the Sun to warm our faces, the Moon to soothe our eyes.
Stretch out on the floor, close our eyes, and feel. Simply feel.
Have a brave and candid conversation with a confidant, or a stranger.
Conceive: How do I move forward?
This is where it gets exciting!
This is where life becomes an adventure rather than a repetitive obligation of daily doldrum.
Let it be your art.
Art that arises from the depth of human experience, a unique projection of perspective and Vision.
Our humanness a finely tuned instrument in the orchestra of space, time, matter, and relationship.
Personal truth.
Unmitigated genius.
Humanly channeled wisdom; direction, momentum.
A Divine mentor.
Unscientific intelligence.
Is there such a thing?
What do you think? What do you feel? What do you sense?
Let it be so.
I say,
Let that fire of fury invigorate you to speak; roar if you must! Insist on being heard. Fear not the sound of your own Voice!
It is your precious gift to the world to transform your vital storm into color, form, story, rhythm, flow.
Vision. Justice. Compassion. Vitality. Peace.
{Photo credit: Jennifer Moiles}
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Jennifer Moiles is a fierce feminine soul, activist and healer with insatiable curiosity about the world, the Divine Feminine, and the power of touch and human connection. A licensed acupuncturist in the state of California, currently living in the Netherlands, she writes to heal herself. Through dance, writing, and art, she has learned to channel emotional energy in a productive way, and uses her art to acknowledge and affirm her inner voice. She shares her truth with the intention of encouraging meaningful conversations, safety in vulnerability, and ultimately a more compassionate and peaceful world. She hosts monthly Red Tent gatherings in Eindhoven, Netherlands, travels regularly as an active member and volunteer with Acupuncturists Without Borders, and writes a blog at Heart, Womb and Soul.
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