Do you feel life? Or do you FEEL life?

While growing up, my mother often told me I was very quick into happiness, but equally quick into gloominess. She saw it as a problem. I never did. I knew what she meant, but I was not worried, nor affected, by her thinking around the topic. On a few occasions my dad confided he was pretty much the same way: quick to be happy; quick to be sad. As a therapist, I could get into the brain science of what that all means. I won't. I could get into the behavioral science of what it means. I won't. My father endured a great deal of suffering because of this "affliction" (as my mother termed it). Still, I recall how fast Dad always was to see the jolly humor side of any situation, and to fully enjoy the brightly illuminated side of life. Don't know if this makes sense to others. Will offer some examples. Once, while my family and some family friends, were en route to our favorite camp site, we drove upon a horrible scene. A livestock hauler was in an accident, and a horse was badly injured, both its back legs with compound fractures. The man who owned the mare begged for anyone who'd stopped to help assist him in "putting the horse down." Dad didn't enjoy the job, but he used his hand pistol, and one quick shot, and the horse was set free from her suffering. That entire weekend, Dad sat quietly beside the fire in the campsite. Everyone tried to engage him in walks, or hikes, or fishing from the stream. Dad was lost in sadness. Years later, Dad talked about that moment. He said the horse seemed not to understand what had happened, and that he could feel the horse's spirit tagging along, thinking my dad would show her (the horse) what to do. Dad said eventually he believed she (the horse) crossed over, and until that moment, he was simply deeply sad. I've had hundreds of moments similar to that in my life. Not similar to the horse's sad fate, but similar in reaction. It works both directions, and luckily, the joyful stuff always outlasts the sorrow-sad stuff. For instance, I well remember many years ago when I was spending time in Istanbul. I'd ridden busses, taken the wrong train, and endured taxis, all during a miserable rainy day, to reach a well known landmark. Upon finally arriving, I was almost too distressed to care. Emerging from the taxi, the rain suddenly ceased, the sun pushed clouds aside, and there were people sitting under little umbrellas playing backgammon. The peaceful beauty of everything overwhelmed my senses, and the smile that overtook my face lasted for days. I always saw this quickness to happy, and this quickness to gloom, as more a blessing than an affliction. What I feel, I truly, truly feel. A lot. I don't have emotions that are middle of the road. I have BIG emotions. I don't do mediocre.