We’ve recently visited at a small meditation center in southeastern Missouri that is run by Buddhist monks. Every evening, there is a short lecture about meditation and something interesting was said today about how we deal with our feelings.
One of the problems with emotions is that we allow them to define us: “I’m sad.” “I’m angry.” “I’m frustrated.” And even though we know that emotions aren’t permanent—they change frequently, sometimes by the minute—we still tend to attach them to our identity. What would happen if we took our emotions less “personally”? What if we said, “This is fear.” “This is sadness.” “This is anger”? In doing so, we create a certain distance from the emotion, rather than making it a part of who we are.
Without diving into the intricacies of Buddhism (which I would likely misrepresent), the next step would be to acknowledge the emotion, but not internalize it. We would allow it to “stand beside us” instead of letting it consume us. You don’t fight it, you don’t try to change it, and you don’t ignore it, but you also don’t give it attention. You simply let it stand there, alone and by itself. Then, you shift your focus to a more uplifting thought or feeling—such as gratitude for all the things you do have and can do (even in the presence of fear or sadness), or loving feelings for the important people (and animals) who accompany you in life.
Of course, the fear (or anger, or sadness) that you’ve left standing alone in the corner won’t give up so easily. It will call for your attention over and over. You have to practice again and again how to relax and let go, until you can more quickly and easily detach from these emotions and take them less personally.
For me, fear looks like thick, gray fog. When I imagine this, I first picture myself walking out of the fog, turning around, and observing it from a safe distance. The fear exists, it’s real, it has a cause—and yet, I don’t have to let it dictate my life or view it as part of me. This way, I have more energy to focus on the things that truly matter, and I don’t waste it on that gray fog.