The Full Fathom Heart and Distracting Bodily Feels

How deep is your heart? How lofty? What is the breadth of your heart? 

Have you ever considered your heart in such terms, or only thought of yourself as a brain with a heart that must be kept pumping to keep you alive, until one day you noticed a crazy ache when love blindsided you and then dropped you, harshly unrequited?  

Different things are felt in different parts of our bodies. Some don't feel what you do. Perhaps you haven't felt your heart, only your stomach. Or tension in your head. I have a friend who has never had a headache in her life, yet relates to strong feelings of emotion. Wow! She attributes her lack of pain to her crooked teeth.

Any of us may have a fight or a fight automatic on-switch that may bug the crap out of us. It's sort of literal in my case. I used to be great at a big audition, but lousy when I was about to head out the door for the trip. Bathroom time, and lots of it. 

My flight mode is something that mostly happened only as I was about to make the trip for something important and meaningful for which I really had to leave on time. I've gotten a grip on that. The relationship I have with myself is much better and the path I'm on has a purpose that is rich, full, and congruent in every part of me.

I still have a fight-or-flight mode. The other part of my flight mode comes with real fear. I don't believe I could take that away; it has a purpose! I don't live in fear at all. I've always been the one to jump to aid, cautious but knowing. I take care of the people and the cause of fear or need - snakes, millipedes, spiders, blood, impediment, birth, whatever. I'm not afraid of death, either. An imminent battle - that does it.

Last I felt it, I was through-hiking with my ex-husband. I had a ferocious migraine and we opted to stop a bit before dusk near but a little below the top of a mountain. All around were low-bush blueberries. We pitched the tent, I drank water, and I went to sleep. 

In the middle of the night came a loud roar of a very big wildcat. Turned out to be a Catamount. Then there was a high-pitched scream followed by thunderous hooves coming right toward the tent. 

Inside the tent, I had nothing to defend myself from a hungry wildcat, and my immediate instinct was to roll over it and hit it with a frying pan. My body's immediate instinct was to defecate. That need was outrageous and overwhelming. 

I guess I should tell you that the two animals bounced off the tent (amazing tent!) and the cat had its dinner. Alas, it slept and even snored right outside our tent. It hunted one more time that evening tumultuous evening. My need had to be taken care of internally in a bag of sorts.

So there it is - my example of distracting bodily feels. So what of the broken heart? It heals every time. Sunk full fathom? It turns into gold, rich and strange, lovely to behold, stronger than ever.

World Humanitarian Day just passed. What does it mean to be a humanitarian? Humanitarianism starts with you, with me. It comes from the heart, and it is received by the heart. To be a humanitarian, we must feel compassion. Think of one whom you love, a son or daughter, a lover, a mother or father, a pet. Who has cared for you most in your life? When you think of them in your mind, you have the greatest compassion for them. You wish them peace. That is the feeling for all humanity that one has to be a humanitarian - it is compassion in the heart, and the heart aches when humankind aches.

When and where there is pain, I sing. When I sing, the pain dissipates after a time; the song delivers the balm.

If you feel in another part of your body or cope in another way, tell in the comments.