Tell me about your intense emotions.

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Well, in honor of May Day and my experiences today, I am starting a thread to ask y’all about intense emotional experiences.

Allow me to start off by saying that I had a beautiful day. It is gorgeous in California just now. Everything is blooming with ebullient glee and reckless abandon. The air is filled with the scent of jasmine, and I went to see a young man of my acquaintance who cheerfully reminded me that I am in fact female. Lovely. I know that some of us Dopers still languish in less-than-balmy weather, and I empathize. Hang on, it’s coming. But I digress.

I am aware that many people are not comfortable talking about their emotions or their inner workings; but for those of you who are, please tell me about one or some of the most strongest and profound emotional states you have ever been in. Good, bad, sad, heavy, blissful, ineffable – they’re all important to me.

I’ll start. There is a song by Nick Cave called, “Time Jesum Transeuntum Et Non Riverentum” (Dread the Passage of Jesus, For He Will Not Return). I wish I could post a cite, but I can’t find one.

The first time I ever heard it was when a friend brought it home & played it for me. A little ways into the song, I began to weep. As the song progressed to a slow scales near the end, I found myself sobbing as though my heart would break. But why? These are the words:

“We were called to the forest… when we went down.
A wind blew warm and eloquent
We were searching for the secrets of the universe…
And we rounded up demons and forced them to tell us what it all meant
We tied ‘em to trees and broke them down one by one
And on a scrap of paper, they wrote these words…
And as we read them, the sun broke through the trees…
“Dread the passage of Jesus, for he will not return.”
Then we headed back to our world and left the forest behind…
Our hearts singin’ with all the knowledge of love.
Then somewhere, somehow, we lost the message along the way…
And when we got home, we bought ourselves a house.
And we bought a car that we did not use…
And we bought a cage and two singing birds…
And at night we’d sit and listen to the canary’s song.
For we’d both run right out of words…
Now the stars, they are all angled wrong…
And the sun and the moon refuse to burn
But I remember a message in a demon’s hand
Dread the passage of Jesus for he does not return…
…he does not return…
…he does not return…”
I am not a Christian. I have never felt that Jesus was someone with whom I felt any particular kinship or connection. But something about that song is deeply, unbearably sad, and unbearably beautiful and hopeful at the same time. I asked my friend what he thought the song was about, and why did it make me cry like that? He said, it was about desolation of the soul. Wow.

Hey, found a cite! It’s YouTube, so there’s a slideshow with it; it’s actually an OK slideshow.

2

I have started to feel happy again after months of post split-up redundancy. The elements themselves (as long as there’s a certain amount of sunlight) give me a great sense of belonging to the world. The spring-time growth of plants - trees, ‘weeds’, anything - soothes my materialist heart, with just a tinge of melancholy at the impermanence of it all.

Of course it only takes some crass tosser, smugly walking all over another for short-term selfish gain, to snap me out of my reverie. It will take me a bit longer to start liking people again.

3

Speaking of spring and intense emotions . . .

I am emerging from the most difficult two years of my life and am now in a new place, new life, and everything is GOOD. I did start to feel a little down in March, when winter was dragging out, but I had this amazing dream one night that I was driving down the I-95 and the trees were in full bloom, the under-flora had burst into amazing colors, and the sun was shining in a perfect blue sky. In the dream I laughed and laughed and laughed and woke up happy.

Several weeks ago when I was driving down the I-95 I experienced a moment that was the exact scene as I had enjoyed in the dream. I cried with joy.

I have reliably intense emotions at every graduation I attend as a faculty member. I stuff a lot of Kleenex into the pockets underneath my academic robe, as I know there will be tears when I see my students walk across the stage (especially students who have struggled) :slight_smile: .

4

Jennshark, that experience was a real blessing! I can imagine what it must have been like. I’ll bet it would give one a real sense of being on the right path.

Staggerlee, I don’t know if it is relevant to your feelings or not, but it seems like it might be. Because it’s a paragraph from my blog, it has a few cuss words. I hope you don’t mind.

“So being a punk has nothing to do with being an asshole. It is not about expressing a blanket negativity & nihilism at everything. Cynicism is healthy, irreverence is healthy, but being fatalistic is just lazy. The world is not ONLY a cesspool; it’s a cesspool, yes, but it’s also where all the good things are. The truly tricky part is only taking the good things to heart, and keeping all the sludge and the hate and the crap and the sickening wrong at arms’ length from you, in a huge (and VERY sturdy!) box marked, “Fix This Shit!””

That being said, I can certainly relate. Hang tough, it will get better.

5

That’s pretty agreeable, cheers brujaja. I’m actually a pretty optimistic person, and the way that nature blithely carries on regardless always amuses me.

6

It’s not difficult to learn to snap yourself right back into it.

My own intense emotion: I am very deeply in love with the most wonderful person on the face of the planet.

7

The most amazingly painful emotion I’ve ever felt was waking from a dream where I had lost my husband in a boating accident.

But on a regular basis, I find my heart so full of joy it just feels like it has to be spilling out all over the place. Usually it’s when I’ve just left my garden, where I’ve been petting the dog and cats, watching the birds, tending my pretty flowers, and just generally communing with nature, to come inside where my husband is waiting. (See my sig line. :))

8

I have an intense emotional reaction that I have yet to fully identify.

The song “Hurt”, specifically the Johnnie Cash version and video, does something not quite bad but not quite good either. It’s not depression, it’s not elation but it is at least as strong of a reaction as both of those if not stronger.

As the imagery flashes across the screen there is a connection made with the performer. I remember as a child my parents listening to this man; sometimes sad songs, sometimes funny songs, sometimes less than appreciated (as the music of parents often is to a child) but always recognized instantly. A voice from the past that strikes a memory of simpler times, when life was easier.

Shoveling the snow meant clearing off the sidewalk for about 15 minutes then spending the next few hours scooping and sculpting and enjoying the briskness of the air. Now shoveling the snow means trying to clear the driveway as fast as possible so I am not late for work, or clearing the walkway while huffing and puffing and hoping that burning pain in my chest is not what I think it is. Spring meant thawing and splashing and miniature floes of ice drifting past the curb like a toyland antarctica. Trees budding, flowers blooming, the smell of fresh grass was more intoxicating than any wine I have ever known. Now the grass grows too fast and I can’t keep up. Thawing brings flooding, water seeps in where it doesn’t belong bringing the musty stench of rot along with it. Does the mower work? Will the A/C unit need serviced? How much damage has winter done to the driveway and fencing? Why is the roof sagging like that?

So I drink deeply from the fountain of youth, allowing memories to flood back in and fill the empty spaces. Many things trigger such a response: certain music, particular foods or smells. I remember the way a junk yard smelled; oil, gas, rust and decaying metal blending into a sweet aroma. This is a place of adventure, of mystery, of discovery while my dad searches for a working altanator. I understand now what it must have smelled like to him. Death, worry, that bristley movement in the pit of your stomach as the mind struggles to solve an issue that lies just beyond your means. Yeah, Johnnie Cash brings back strong emotions.

But this time it’s different. This time it confuses me. Here in the alyssian garden that I have created from my youth comes the same message of death. The same pain. The same relationship I have with the present. What is this feeling? What is this damnation of an emotion? Why does the younger Johnnie Cash look quite a bit like my father?

Then comes the dementia. A time worn face stares distantly, ruminating on regret, indeed what have I become, my dearest friend. In an instant eyes as sharp as a razors edge lock onto the screen, cutting away any doubts of the measure of experience and life beyond that gaze. You can have it all, my empire of dirt. The wine pours upon the feast, the banquet is ruined, all worthless, all needless, yet remaining and growing rapidly, festering.

The piano rises from a rhythmic bit of background into a great and terrible crescendo. Each note pounding into the skull, trepanning the soul’s own mind. The images flash quicker, emotion builds, recognition flashes like a photo strobe as the video images are replaced in the minds eye of flashbacks and personal detriment filed away years ago. Yet the crescendo keeps building, forcing itself into your mind.

If I could start again, a million miles away. The words are familiar, I know these words but somehow they don’t make sense together. The bitter regret. The anger. The love, longing for release. The pounding of the piano is unbearable, each note reverberating, echoing. That burning in my chest is back, and the coldness in my spine. Every hair stands on end in anticipation of the dreadfull orgasm to follow.

I would keep myself, I would find a way. Then it stops.

The tension is still running full tilt, mixed and mingled emotions flying furiously about the room. Steam whistles sounding out a warning in the back of the mind. So much that it is hardly even noticed when the road drops away. Emotionally running flat out over the edge of the cliff and hanging there, comically suspended like a hapless half-starved coyote, wondering what just happened and why.

In silence Johnnie Cash closes the piano lid and gently caresses it, fingertips greeting memorys like old friends for the last time. Shortly after came the passing of his wife, and then he followed. The video stands like a death song, a respectable regards and goodbye.

So… yeah.

I kind of like that song.

9

nd_n8, that was quite beautiful.

10

Wow, I’m stunned. That was indeed astonishing!

That song used to really get me when I owned the Nine Inch Nails’ original version of it. But, oh, the Johnny Cash version – who would ever have guessed that he of all people would do a cover infinitely more poignant, bitter, hopeful, sad?

All my life, people have thought I was a witch or a Goth or on a death trip because I like to wear black. I finally started saying that I wear black because if I didn’t, “I’d blind y’all.” But Johnny had the best explanation of all – he said (essentially) that as long as there was suffering and injustice in the world, he would wear black in recognition of that fact.

**TroubleAgain **, I like your first sig line even better! :slight_smile:

tdn, I have read about your good fortune in other threads. If I haven’t said so already, nice going! You really deserve this good fortune. And, it gives me hope.

And thanks, staggerlee. As an old boyfriend of mine used to say about the sounds of birdies lounging atop his Airstream trailer, “Clickety clickety CHEEP!”

11

Thank you! The past couple of weeks have been truly filled with intense emotions.

12

Several years ago, I had a dream in which my mother turned to me and said, “I’m dying, y’know. You might as well deal with it.” She said it in a rather nasty tone (quite unlike my mother). I woke up quickly, sat up, and started sobbing. That emotional reaction was amazingly intense, especially since I seldom have really strong emotions. My poor partner didn’t have a clue what to do with me and it took me awhile to try to explain.

13

I get emotional every time I sing two particular songs: “The Star-Spangled Banner” (at the “flag was still there” part) and Melissa Etheridge’s “Scarecrow” (at the “I can forgive, but I will not forget” part).

The most upset I’ve been was after the vet put my 18-year-old cat to sleep: she came to the house and did it in my living room, and when I watched her walk away from the house carrying my dead cat I just lost it. I called my mother, and later she told me that it was the first time in 32 years she’d ever heard true panic in my voice.

I also get empathetically emotional: learning of a friend’s joy (like the birth of a child) or pain (like a death) or even extreme stress (like a hospitalized infant) will likely result in some tears on my part.

As for the most intense happy emotion, it’s whenever I feel a swell of love for my SO. It’s been 17 months and we’re moving in together in 5 weeks, and I still sometimes have moments where I feel so much love for him that it scares me a little.

14

Hi Brujaja: though I’m a staunch realist (rationalist?) it was a moment of pure, unadulterated knowledge that I was in the “right place/right time.”

To all: I, too, have strong emotional ties to music. I remember the first time I heard The Eurythmics, Tears for Fears, Bryan Ferry, and Thomas Dolby in high school . . . they took the top of my head off and I literally wore my cassette tapes out.

15

Hi Brujaja: though I’m a staunch realist (rationalist?) it was a moment of pure, unadulterated knowledge that I was in the “right place/right time.”

To all: I, too, have strong emotional ties to music. I remember the first time I heard The Eurythmics, Tears for Fears, Bryan Ferry, and Thomas Dolby in high school . . . they took the top of my head off; who knew music could sound like that?

16

“this is my four-leaf-clover…one little boy, one little man…funny how time flies…”
(and, you SHOULDN’T have to jump for joy!)
Misnomer: I love that love-feeling! I get it when I look at my son, and my cat. It feels like your heart is expanding and radiating warmth. Sometimes I swear I could beam it out of my eyes, if I tried.

JustThinkin’: You poor soul! That moment before you realize you were dreaming is so awful. I am glad you had your SO there to comfort you.

17

It seems like the only ones I have left are love and sorrow. Sometimes sorrow makes me sob like a child but love makes me smile ear to ear. It was some hard ass work getting hate and fear under control. Hate still gives me some problems but mostly in relation to pride. A really shitty emotion, that pride. Always causing problems. You get you head all swole up thinking your the man or better than this one or that one. Next thing you know you’re just a fool, I prefer dumbass, actually. That says it all.

18

Carpe diem

19

Omegaman, I think you’ve earned the right to feel good about yourself. We are never going to be perfect, you know. You are amazing!

Twice I have met death and felt my ability to control my feelings slip away from me.

The first time was when my father died. I was forty-six. I loved and respected by father as much as anyone could. I saw him as a combination of Atticus Finch and George Bailey – much loved in the small town where I grew up. I managed to keep my chin up during the service and at the cemetery. It was late in the afternoon when we stopped by another cemetery and I saw the fresh grave for one of Daddy’s life long friends that had died two days before. I had been impatient with one of this man’s children and my father had been disappointed with me. They were so poor. After thirty or thirty-five years, it still hurt that I had not been more understanding. So when I saw this man’s grave, it was like running into the wall of death that separates us from those we love. And I realized for the first time that I couldn’t go around the wall to make it up to my father. I couldn’t get to him to see him or be with him or hear him or comfort him or hear his jokes. I doubled over and thought I could not breathe for the grief that poured over me. If I could have caught my breath, maybe I would have wailed.

What I didn’t know was that that feeling of separation would pass for me and that in time I wouldn’t feel the loss of my father’s love.

Just talking about it has worn me out and I can’t talk about the other experience with death just now.

20

Well bless your heart. Death seems to be the hardest on those left behind. But I think with our memories we cherish our loved ones.