Waves of Emotion = Life
We hear these terms often: “Ride the emotional waves.” “Emotions come in waves.” “I was overcome by this wave of ***fill in the emotion*** and I couldn’t move/began to cry/froze.”
Yesterday, as I contemplated my next turn around the sun, I decided to go to the beach. Having recently moved near the ocean, this was not a challenging last-minute decision. Previously, getting to the beach would have meant planning and orchestrating and finagling, weeks of saving to purchase the ticket, etc. But yesterday, I simply had the idea, got in my car, drove 20 minutes, and voilà!
I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted there or why I was so utterly and inexorably compelled to be there, but there I was.
Getting out of my car, I left my coverup, grabbed my towel, and let the waves pull me to them. This was new for me. I have some self-image trauma that always nags at my attention when I’m in a bathing suit. But yesterday, I had no bandwidth for that.
I simply had to get into the ocean.
Walking onto the beach, I passed the families and friends and fishermen and lifeguard… and found the spot where I could throw down my towel, kick off my flipflops, and drop my eyeglasses & car keys.
This, too, was different behavior for me. I usually strategically select a location where I won’t be too seen, gently spread out my towel and carefully place items on each corner to hold it in place.
Not yesterday.
Yesterday was something primal.
And then I walked to the water. Normally, I walk along the water’s edge, allowing it to lap at my feet as I “get some exercise!”
Not yesterday.
I walked directly into the ocean and stood there.
I felt the initial chill of it on my feet and ankles… and I stepped further in.
The waves were caressing my ankles and shins. I stepped further in.
The waves were coming in slowly, with varying degrees of force. My body swayed as the ocean foam bubbled around me.
I stepped further in. The waves now could slap against my thighs and lower belly. The big ones could make loud CLAPs! against my body. I felt the sand moving under my feet.
And… I really felt the different sensations:
water against skin or soaking my bathing suit;
sand sifting between my toes and shifting under my feet;
small bits of sea grass tickling my shins;
the sun streaming down on my closed eyelids as I stood there waiting for …. Something to move within me.
I felt all the movement around me… but things were stuck inside me and I remained openly curious – staying with the inquiry within.
And then I stepped further in. And now the waves could smack against my torso, my breastbone, my neck. The ocean spray, raining droplets on my forehead, the crown of my head, the ends of my hair now dripping.
But I wasn’t all the way in, not yet. I was holding myself steady-ish although any onlooker would have noticed the sway in my stance.
Hands at my sides, covered in the salty ocean water, I lifted one and then the other to smooth down my hair. I couldn’t really “wipe” my eyes because every bit of my skin was salted.
The next wave came.
And then I acknowledged the stuck emotion: fear…
And as each slow, subsequent wave came towards me, I felt the swell of the fear and asked more about it. What is this? Where is it originating?
No answers came. But the FEELINGS were all present. The emotional and physical sensations of energy moving around and beginning to move through me. I began to cry – like the first steps into the ocean, soft, gentle waves.
And the awareness began to grow throughout my being: I am grieving the death of my brother.
“I fear I was not present enough to him. I fear taking the plunge into the deep and strong waves. I fear going fully into the ocean of my love and my grief at his untimely death. I fear I will always be stuck on the sand, or just toes in the ocean sea foam, even though he showed me and opened up for me the possibilities of going full force towards life.”
He may have bungled it from time to time – he was human, after all. But he went for it. He danced with the wild beasts; he charmed them even. He became parent to the big cats even though he could not quite figure out how best to parent his human children.
As all of this was moving through me – without words, simply images and sensations, it is only a day later that I can put language to it all – as it began to move in me even as the ocean moved around me, I knew the next step was coming:
go all in or go back and remain stuck.
I embraced the next wave with all my being. Crown to toe, I immersed myself in it. Momentarily. It passed in an instant. Once. Twice. And the salt that I had previously only tasted in the air, was on my lips, around my eyes, covering my head, on every finger and toe…
I was no longer crying. The salty tears of the ocean had covered me. I had, in union with the ocean and the sun, moved something within me.
As I walked back onto the beach, I knew the grief was not gone – but it also was not quite so stuck.
I lay half on my towel, half on the sand itself, and let the ocean dry on my skin & hair. I danced with my inner mermaid – simultaneously longing for the water and for the land.
The Emotion Code offers similar lessons: no emotion is “bad”, it simply is. When we label it, when get identified with it, when we admonish or shame it, it becomes stuck creating a blockage. Removing trapped emotions does not remove the emotion or the ability to feel that or any emotion.
Removing the blockage, returns to the emotion its true value:
energy in motion, the energy of living life fully.
This is how we move our emotions through our bodies.
First: acknowledge the stuckness.
Next: know that identifying with the stuckness is to advance towards death even though we are alive.
Finally: dance with the resulting fluidity when the obstacle is removed, it can take time – so give it time, we have all the time in the world.
My brother rarely stayed in the stuckness. He moved toward the ferocity as well as the tenderness of life the best he could with the tools he had. I have his example as well as many other tools that I’ve learned over a lifetime. I choose to feel the expansiveness of all the grief and all the charge of life it gives me. Later in the day, yesterday, I spent time with other family members. The richness and vibrancy of their presence were true gifts. And I was open to receiving them all.
If you would like to work with me on removing some of your own obstacles and “stuckness,” you don’t need to be near the ocean. There was a time in my life when song or dance would have helped me move emotions. Sometimes it is through the rage room that I move the emotions. Sometimes I simply write about the emotions.
I invite you to consider booking a free consultation to explore how we might journey together.
