You hold the room's feelings the way other people hold opinions — steadily and without spilling. Friends surface with things they have carried for months, because near you it is safe to put them down. You read what is underneath and you do not weaponize it.
The cost is that the tide comes in and rarely goes out. Everyone's water ends up in your harbor, and the line between their storm and your weather blurs. You can spend a season regulating a household's worth of emotion and call it an ordinary month.
The Queen of Cups sits at the water's edge — beside it, not in it. That placement is the teaching. Feel everything, hold what you choose to hold, and let the rest be the sea's. Your depth is only sustainable with a shore.