🌿 A poem a day keeps the blues away… 

REAL

🌻 I’ve cried when I’m happy
And cried when I’m sad
I’ve smiled through the good times
And smiled through the bad

I’ve screamed in excitement
I’ve screamed out in pain
I’ve gasped at the sunshine
And gasped at the rain

I’ve laughed when I’m nervous
And when I’m elated
I’ve sighed with contentment
And when I’m deflated

I’ve sung when I’m lonely
And sung in a crowd
I’ve shouted when angry
And when I’ve been proud

‘Cause whether we’re up
Or we’re riding a low
Our feelings are desperate
For somewhere to go

We can’t keep them trapped
And locked up in a cage –
They force their way out
‘Cause they need to escape

And sometimes we’re told
That emotions are weakness
That feeling is flawed
If we let it defeat us

But how can this be?
Surely this must be wrong
For what could be weak
About something so strong

Cannot be tamed
Can’t be kept down
And cannot be contained

So when you next shout
Or you laugh or you cry
You scream or you smile
Or let out a sigh

Whatever the reason
Just let yourself feel
We’re not here to be quiet –
We’re here to be real 🌻

—Becky Hemsley
published in “Letters from life”

🪴 Feelings want their rightful place

This week I had the pleasure of supporting John Leary-Joyce on his Gestalt Coaching foundation course, with a remarkably gifted group of participants.

The focus was on the coach’s use of self—showing up fully, bringing their own present-moment experience into the room as live data to facilitate the client’s own embodied experience. In other words: to feel alongside. To be real, together.

Becky’s poem captures something the Gestalt tradition has always known: that feelings want and deserve their rightful place—be it in a coaching relationship, at home, or at work.

🪴 Neither tidy nor optional

The poem is a great reminder of the power of feelings and their versatility.

I cry when I’m happy and when I’m sad.
I scream out of excitement or pain.
I sing when I’m lonely or overjoyed.

Whatever the context or reason, and however they show up, feelings allow us to be real.

Our emotions are neither tidy nor optional. They are relentlessly looking for a way out. And perhaps the most radical thing we can do—especially at work—is to stop pretending otherwise.

Which raises the question: how much space do we actually create at work for people to feel—and to be real—without panic?

For most companies I know, the answer is “very little space”, because emotions are messy, can be scary, and we don’t always know how to deal with them in ourselves, let alone in others…

You’d be surprised at the number of times I’ve had a manager come to me, in panic, because their employee cried during a check-in or a team meeting…

🪴 The paradox at the heart of it

The poem holds a paradox at its heart
—that the very thing we’re told makes us weak is the thing that makes us real;
—that the very thing we perceive as weak is in fact “so strong” it “cannot be tamed”, “be kept down”, or “be contained”.

Sometimes feelings arrive uninvited; they often refuse to be reasoned with; and they will inevitably find a way out—one way or another.

And yet we spend so much energy at work building walls around them.

I understand why—I really do.

But I wonder if those walls are the best way to create a healthy productive environment… or if they’re actually making things worse.

Because here’s the deeper paradox:

🪴 When feelings burst

The more an environment values “head” over “heart”, the more it encourages the stifling of feelings, and the more those feelings will eventually burst through in ways that are far more disruptive than if they’d been given space in the first place.

Unaddressed emotions don’t disappear. They calcify into disengagement, fear, absenteeism, and sickness.

That’s when managers start yelling at employees; employees burst out of meetings, punching a wall; colleagues stab each other in the back—and the rest burn out.

And, because we are ever so polite with one another
—either no one names what’s happening and the cycle quietly poisons the whole environment,
—or someone gets fired for ‘inappropriate behaviour’, only for the pattern to repeat somewhere else, with someone else.

This is the paradox Becky names—and one I work with companies to navigate every day.

It’s messy. And yet, putting our heads in the sand won’t make feelings go away.

(A note on context: I’m not suggesting every workplace becomes a therapy room, or that a surgeon pauses mid-operation to process their anger at their boss. There’s a meaningful difference between expressing feelings responsibly and being overwhelmed by them. What I am suggesting is that many workplaces seem to be allergic to emotion altogether.)

🪴 “How are you?”; “How do you feel?”

One of the things John challenges us on is finding different ways to ask someone—a client, a colleague—”How do you feel?” In fact, he bans the phrase from his foundation course. 😅

On the one hand, a question like “How are you?” has become a wall in itself—polite, well-meaning, and very easy to deflect.

But even a genuine “How do you feel?” is often met with “I’m not sure.” Why?

Because we’ve lost our connection to our body, and without that connection it becomes much more difficult to name our feelings—until suddenly one day, someone bursts into tears in a meeting or loses their temper with a direct report…

And this is precisely why learning to do better than “How are you?” or “How do you feel?” matters—because the first step to creating space for feelings is learning how to reach them.

🪴 So what might it look like in practice?

It starts with leaders who are willing to go first—who model what it looks like to be real, responsibly. When a leader normalises emotion, they give everyone around them permission to do the same.

And it starts small: a team meeting that opens with something other than the agenda; a culture that treats someone crying not as a crisis to manage, but as an opportunity to demonstrate curiosity and compassion; a colleague who says “You seem a bit down today” instead of “How are you?”.

None of this requires a therapist on staff. It requires a change in what we allow ourselves to notice, and what we choose to do with it.

🪴 So, two questions for you this Sunday:

📌 When was the last time you allowed yourself to express your true feelings—to be real?

📌 How else could you ask someone “How do you feel?” without using those words? I’d love to read your thoughts in the comments below 👇🏽.

And I’ll reveal some of John’s and my favourites in the comments once you’ve had your turn!

🦋 Happy Sunday everyone! 🦋

With love,

Dina 🫶🏽

Picture of Balthazar: my new friend at SurVojo.ch and teacher of healthy emotional expression

Resources:

• Where to visit Balthazar: If you live nearby Binningen (CH), you can visit Balthazar (and Fabian) at the Sur Vojo farm (survojo.ch). You will find two Grand noir du Berry there – Balthazar is the smaller one. The other, and much larger one, is Lotus. 
• This week’s song is Aerials, cover by The Barefoot Movement