I’m paying attention to my emotions
©2021 David Bivins
There’s a concept in meditation about things “arising in consciousness,” You can see that your emotions are just things in your consciousness—you are not your emotions. By really thinking about that a lot (especially thanks to Sam Harris’s guided meditations), I’ve put a little gap in my reactiveness.
I’ve been part of a lot of intense conversations over the past several months. In at least a couple of them, others have been concerned that I lacked emotion. But I didn’t. I felt the emotion. I let it arise and identified it. And instead of reflexively acting (speaking) on it, I took it as one element of guidance. A data point. And I reflected. And then I acted. When the nurses were telling me about my dad, in his awful state in the hospital, I felt the panic and anxiety arise. I watched it arise in my consciousness. I saw it for what it was: my fear that I would lose my dad. And instead of letting all the associated feelings rush in, I asked questions. I learned more about my dad’s condition. I slipped out of the path of fight-or-flight and got more information that my emotions couldn’t supply to me on their own.
If this is a superpower, there is plenty of Kryptonite strewn in my way. My teenage son knows how to push my buttons. I frustrate easily in the face of some things, and I flash with anger at others. I burst into tears when my mom told me about my dad’s collapse. But I’m not lashed tightly to those emotions in such a way that I can’t loosen their binds and reflect.
I actually learned a different version of this long ago in my corporate life. I would respond as quickly as possible to every email or phone call (remember those?) that came to me. I thought I was stamping out little fires everywhere, every day. At some point I realized that most of those little fires were so small that they burned themselves out. It was more about the reporter of the fire feeling the need to “get in front of” the issue and my immediate reaction was unnecessary. Another important parallel: our need to help others fix their problems. In my sobriety meetings, I learned (because it was in our community agreements) to not give advice or feedback unless it’s solicited. That we’re not broken. We don’t need fixing. We let others ask for help and then decide if we have the capacity to give that help. We check our boundaries. This is useful outside the meetings, too. I can’t count how many times I’ve jumped up to help someone when they expressed frustration, when really they were just letting that frustration out in their own way, and they were absolutely capable of helping themselves. I’ve learned (mostly) to inhibit and let others have their own emotions. And when I don’t, the people closest to me let me know very plainly that I am not letting them. I love them for that lesson.
When emotions arise, I take a breath. I occupy that space where I can see them arise. I listen, but I know they are not me.
I love you,
David
