Fearlings and Freelings
I came up with these terms for for myself a while back, probably when I was trying, one of many (many) times, to reconcile the conflicting emotions and body sensations I was wrestling with. I can’t remember exactly what sparked it. But I ran across it again this morning, and it was like…“Ah! Hi there, old friends.”
As I read through my writing, it reminded me a little bit of what Elizabeth Gilbert talks about in Big Magic—how ideas are always out there, floating around, looking for an inviting place to land. They have no inherent magic in themselves. We have to be receptive to them in order to unlock their wonder. Sometimes we’re not in the right mindset, and they’ll pass us by if we don’t grab on. And that’s ok. But when we’re open and allow them in, that’s when the magic happens.
Is it the same with our feelings?
Both Western psychology and Eastern spiritual practices believe that emotions, on their own, are neither positive nor negative. They’re inherently neutral. They’re providing us with information about something that’s happening within us, or around us. It’s how we respond to them that gives them their polarity.
Anger, for example, can either lead to rage (negative) or activism (positive). Anticipation can lead to anxiety (negative) or excitement (positive). Love can lead to dependency (negative) or compassion (positive).
I think when I originally wrote what I’m about to share below, I was trying to capture those two sides of the emotions I was feeling, and trying to make sense of. Feelings definitely have a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde sensibility for me. When I’m in a particularly low or critical space, they manifest as fear, constriction, out-of-controllness, self-doubt. On the opposite side of the spectrum, when I’m more settled and at home in my heart/mind/body, they manifest as senations of spaciousness, calm, knowing, inspiration.
I called each of these different states FEARlings and FREElings, to try to make sense of them.
Here’s what I wrote.
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What are Freelings and Fearlings?
They’re little floaty orbs that we think are born in our heads, but they really can be sparked into existence from anywhere within our hearts, minds, or bodies. Sometimes we even absorb them from other people, places, or situations, too.
Fearlings are heavy. Dense. Thick and opaque, with solid walls and edges. They attach themselves to the parts of us that are scared, or unsure, or sad, or overwhelmed. They weigh us down, and keep us from being able to see what’s real about ourselves behind them. And Fearlings are sneaky. When they find a raw, vulnerable spot and make themselves at home, even recognizing that they’re there can be difficult. They camouflage themselves to look and feel like they’ve always been there. Like they’re natural extensions of ourselves, but they’re not. They breathe our breath, like we’re the host body that’s keeping them alive, and they somehow make us believe that we need them. We mistake their thoughts for our own. We see the world and ourselves through their eyes. When one Fearlings takes hold, it usually invites more with it, and shoves open the door to let them through. And once they’re embedded, it's hard to kick them out.
Which brings us to Freelings.
Freelings are light. Airy. Floaty and translucent. It’s hard to see their edges, sometimes, because they are so fluid that they are almost like whispers. Unlike Fearlings, Freelings don’t usually attach themselves to any one specific part of us. Rather, they dance along our inner surfaces like stardust, sprinkling tiny bits of joy, optimism, inspiration, and enoughness. Because they don’t hold a fixed shape, they’re harder to grasp and hold onto. But when they’re there, you absolutely know it, and try to enjoy them for as long as you can. Freelings don’t breathe our breath. Rather, we breathe theirs. They also don’t need us to keep them alive, so they can come and go as they please. But as opposite as they are from Fearlings, they’re similar in one important way: when a Freeling comes to visit, it invites more to come with it. The biggest difference is that they’re polite. We have to be attuned with ourselves to notice them, and willing to open the door to let them in.
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I think that it’s possible for Fearlings and Freelings to be present at the same time. It’s like the allegorical devil and angel sitting on opposite shoulders, each trying to nudge you in their preferred direction.
But here’s where this gets complicated: if feelings themselves are neutral, then we’re the ones who are actually turning them into Fearlings or Freelings. We’re assigning their connotation and their demeanor by how we respond to them. We’re creating the polarity for ourselves.
I don’t know what to do with this, except maybe to try stepping back more and seeing what I’m feeling right now through a more objective lens. I guess that’s what meditation is really trying to do: remind us that we are not our thoughts.
I’ve been a shitty meditator lately. (That’s a Fearling busting in.)
Not today, friend.