In the nature of spirilis's similar thread on Ne (and Ni), I'd like to start one about Fi. I've thought about it a while, and this is the metaphor that echoes with me.
For me, Fi is like a pool of still, dark water that exists somewhere inside of me. Normally, it is still and secure, heavy and placid and content. It is unchanging and constant.
When things happen externally, things sometimes fall into the pool, causing ripples. But because the pool is dark and heavy, the ripples never last long, and it returns to a state of still contentment.
Things like criticism and insults cause more reaction - instead of pebbles into the water, they are stones, causing larger ripples and every now and again, overflow. Only when the pool overflows do the real, involuntary emotions come out. Beyond that it is something superficial, something chosen and selected by myself to present to the world.
And yet other things, more detrimental, like bad news and grief, are like boulders that bob in the water, causing ripples that refuse to settle, frequently spilling over, often unexpectedly. Refusing to go away, despite logic's most flawless arguments.
And all of these things, the pebbles, the stones, the boulders, all eventually settle to the bottom of this dark pool, far below. And from that moment on, they affect the flow of the water - they are a part of me, irrevocably, no matter how small or insignificant. The experiences have shaped the very landscape of this pool.
Emotions from within are like deep, stirring currents - immense in feeling, slowly stirring. Sometimes they rise to the surface, but mostly they stir below, drifting, ruminating, existing.
I react quickly and lightly but feel slowly and strongly. The ripples and splashes of the surface are no indication of the movements in the depths.
Thoughts? Is it appropriate, or does it miss a part that's vital to you? Any further ideas? If you have your own metaphor, please share!