Two sides of being a sponge

I was thinking today about sponges, and realized that there at least two sides of being a sponge (and no, I don't mean one side is for scrubbing and the other is for soaping). I was thinking that being told I am a sponge means that I am absorbing others' fears, thoughts, anxieties, opinions and energies. I tend to think of being a sponge as negative, as taking on the unhappiness. But what if the reverse were true? What if I were a sponge and took on the happiness, excitement, joy and positive energies of others?

I was also thinking that being a sponge means that even if I harden a bit, it just takes a bit of moisture to soften me again. To be hard is to be inflexible, to be unable to bend with the wind, the snow, or the weight of life. A hard sponge breaks apart and has no purpose. A soft sponge is like a cushion, able to blunt life's impacts.

I was thinking of other analogies for being strong and soft at the same time (and, no, toilet paper ads don't count). I was thinking of willow trees and toasted marshmallows. I was thinking of chocolate covered soft ice cream and wind in all its incarnations. I was thinking of how I like to be when I ski moguls. But these other analogies don't have the same resonance for me as does being a sponge.

Being a sponge is personal to me. I was once given a sponge to carry as a reminder not to be one. Being a sponge is part of who I am. There are two sides to that sponge, a soft side and a dry side. The soft side allows me to be empathetic, to feel others' feelings. The other, dry, side lets me absorb others' feelings. The risk with absorption is that the feelings are overwhelming. In the past, when overwhelmed, I would retreat, avoid, and dry up. A pivotal point in my journey from fear into fun occurred when I was watching the movie, The English Patient. There is a scene where the patient, who has been completely burned, is brought outside on a stretcher. It begins to rain. I felt like I was that dry parched soul feeling the healing moistness of that rain. I opened up and began sobbing. It was the first time that I had really cried in years. Once I softened in that way, tears continued to come when they needed to. And so, I am still a sponge open to others' feelings and energies, but I am learning to take on only what I choose.

P.S. I realize that this sponge analogy is open to many spoofs (just like that more famous cartoon sponge). Oh well, at least, I live in a cold climate rather than undersea in a pineapple.