Sensing feelings

I decide to spend time in my counselling session sensing what my feelings are in the moment.

I feel affirmed, having organised the Greenbelt Quaker worship well. I was not affirmed before, in my choice to do it, at best tolerated. That was wearing.

I sense my value. I am strong. I have a lot to be sad about, and that is not everything.

What I say has value.

I am safe enough for the moment.

I feel-
My strong Intention, like a searchlight for truth.
Love. Self-love. I am on my own side.
Sadness, which manifests itself as thoughts of a woman whose father died recently, aged 51.
Interest in these feelings.
I want to manage my feelings and get that sense of being affirmed back.
I don’t need to-
It’s different. I feel Strong.

Where’s the worry, Tina asks. It’s a non-specific background noise. In the background there is attention to my money draining, all the time.

I look round. She complained of feeling seasick when I was holding my phone, so I placed it on the piano, then brought over a light and closed the curtains behind me so my face would not appear too dark. Those Monet Nymphiades- is the picture a moment in time captured, or an impression of more time in one image, ripples and movement? Or both?

-There are things you can’t do something about, but still worry, she says.

I note I am curled up, legs and arms crossed, bent over, self-protecting. I don’t feel it, it manifests itself in my posture.

The music next door is too loud, and I must deal with it.

I love living surrounded by fields. The wheat was harvested and the straw baled into this big beautiful wall:

Then the farmer spread muck to fertilize on the hottest, driest day and Eagle’s Nest smells of dung. It is all one.

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