We Have the Power: Maybe We Can’t Just “Let Go.” But Maybe We Can Stop Feeding What’s Eating Us

People tell us, “Just let go!” Or “let it go.” Let go of that thought circling continuously in our mind. Let go of that memory, that pain, that habit. Let go of the attacks we launch against ourselves. But there’s no “just let go.” We usually can’t do that. It would be wonderful if, when a hurtful thought arises, we were aware enough to “just” say “bye bye now,” and we kicked it out. Whoopee! It might be that simple for some of us; but usually, when we kick it, it kicks back.

 

It’s a hypnotic technique; if we want someone to think of something, we say “don’t think of this.” Like the famous example, “Don’t think of an elephant” and we think of an elephant. Or we tell children, don’t touch my computer and there they are at the computer.

 

And what’s worse is the expectation; the thought that it should be “just” that easy is an added weight on a weighted soul. We can carry around these selfies of expectations, of ourselves glaring at our “mistakes,” ourselves with others glaring or staring at us.

 

Instead of pushing a thought away, we can pause, stop whatever we’re doing for a second; take an easy, longer breath. And notice where we’re standing. We can’t easily stop a thought; but we can add another more aware, generous, or compassionate one. In my dreams, when something pursues me and I try to hide or turn away, the dream becomes a nightmare, the pursuer expands exponentially into a monster and chases me in a manner too terrible to see. When I face the pursuer, it shrinks and becomes just another living being to recognize. There’s great power in facing and knowing when to face our monsters.

 

One memorable insight I got from mythologist Joseph Campbell and others was that sometimes what seems threatening can be a “call” to us, to step up, try something new; and by doing so, we find ourselves. What once seemed a fright becomes something like an adventure. Writer C. K. Chesterton agreed with Campbell’s point when he wrote: “an adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered.” And the bible: “For the turning away of the simple shall slay them…” Of course, sometimes, we should just turn away.

 

So, one thing that can turn thoughts into torture is letting them chase us from right now; or chase us from looking into what’s living in and around us. We might think the thought itself, and the object of thought carries the whole package of hurt. However, the loss of a moment, of clear seeing, hurts. The running hurts. The negative verdict on ourselves binds and blinds us. It’s how we respond to events or news that matters most. There’s great power, perspective, and freedom in spending time to clearly consider how we respond. Maybe we can’t just “let go.” But maybe, maybe we can stop feeding what’s eating us.

 

And some things we’re not always ready to face. In that case, being caring of ourselves is perfect. All of us have such times, such traumas or hurts. And noticing as much as we possibly can, in that moment, whatever is there for us, with caring and compassion is such a gift. No expectations, just noticing. Such kindness opens us; being judgmental closes us.

 

Instead of being absorbed by an emotion, we can use our attention to “just” notice it. We can break apart what plagues us by noticing what the sensations are and where they‘re located. We can name the quality of feeling and the volume. We can, of course, also talk with others about them, say what we feel safe to say, or say what’s just a little bit beyond safe; or say what feels right. By noticing what feels right and honest in ourselves, and what is right and honest in relating to others is great power. Instead of trying to be a hero in anyone else’s dream, be honest in ours….

 

*To read the whole article, please go to The Good Men Project.

 

Imagining the Space to be Ourselves

There have been too many days lately when the world seems to be changing too fast. So much of the human world screams at us to be on guard that we can feel crowded out of our own lives. We can feel there’s no room for us to be ourselves. To enjoy. To breathe. So, how do we give ourselves the space we need to breathe and be ourselves?

 

Sometimes, I find myself rushing out of an unformed now to an already completed idea of later. I wake with the ring of an alarm and I’m on my way someplace before I even remove the quilt covering my body. The day already belongs to the past. Or instead of being in bed in the morning in my sleep clothes, I am already dressed in a costume to play a role someone else wrote. To leave my bed is to step onto a stage. Or I feel myself driven by an expectation or self-judgement that is so old I don’t even remember where or how it began.

 

This is how anxiety can arise with me in the morning and continue through the day. It is how we can both fear the future and want the present already over with. When we concentrate solely on how others will see us, we are never seen. If the day is already determined, we have little say in it.

 

Recently, before getting out of bed in the morning, I‘ve been reminding myself⎼ This is my life. I even put up reminders, a photo, artwork, saying, or just the word⎼ ‘remember.’ As much as I can, I stop for a moment to imagine what I do that helps me stay open. That adds to my feeling of strength and agency. That allows me, right now, to learn from and deepen my awareness. To enjoy living. To meet others as more like friends or at least unknown beings rich in possibility. It is my life. So, why not sit for a moment remembering that?

 

And throughout the day, if I’m driving myself and rushing too quickly, I stop and breathe. I question the voices in my head and notice the movement in my body. Judgmental words are visualized as birds flying off toward the sun. I notice them, learn from them, and let them go.

 

This first practice re-affirms what I was already doing⎼ remembering how to take it easy on myself and not let fear or anxiety take control. The second is inspired by a book I am reading about learning different forms of attention. The way we focus, or the quality of our attention, can either increase or decrease the pain we feel. This is equally true with emotional and physical pain.

 

We could do this anywhere, except not right after a meal. For now, imagine we take a seat in a quiet spot. When ready, and with eyes open, we ask ourselves: “Can you let your mind and body naturally and effortlessly respond to the following questions?” 15 seconds later, we continue: “Can you imagine paying attention to the feeling of space that the whole room occupies?”

 

This is the beginning of a practice from a fascinating book called Dissolving Pain: Simple Brain Training Exercises for Overcoming Chronic Pain, by Les Fehmi and Jim Robbins. It comes with a CD of guided exercises. Doing the exercises, in my opinion, is no replacement for the depth of meditation. But they are a wonderful complement to it. They teach open-focus attention and how to discern and use whichever form of awareness is appropriate to a situation….

 

**To read the whole article, please click on this link to The Good Men Project.