She said, “These reactions are involuntary.”
I paused. Are they? I wondered.
Perhaps my hesitation came from an assumption I’d been carrying around rather unconsciously: If I continued doing my inner work, practicing presence, and meeting those uncomfortable feelings—shame, fear, anger, and all their pesky relatives—sooner or later they’d stop showing up uninvited.
Then I could simply decide how I wanted to feel.
Hmm. I kind of like that idea.
I once heard the Dalai Lama explain that, yes, of course he gets angry. Anger, like other emotions, arises. The difference is that he doesn’t hold on to it.
Must be nice.
Easy for him to say. After all, he’s been a monk most of his life.
But what about me?
I’ve spent decades studying, meditating, exploring consciousness, and learning to recognize those not-so-comfortable emotions when they come knocking.
And believe me, they still knock.
Sometimes they don’t even bother knocking. They just barge right in, make themselves comfortable, and help themselves to whatever is in the refrigerator.
The difference, perhaps, is that I’ve become a little better at recognizing who’s arrived.
Oh, hello, Fear. You again.
And instead of immediately trying to show Fear the door, I can sometimes sit down and ask what’s going on.
Not always, mind you.
Sometimes I’m still halfway down the road before I realize Fear has grabbed the steering wheel.
But I’m beginning to wonder if that’s what allowing really means. Not making the feelings disappear. Not becoming so spiritually evolved that nothing ever rattles me.
Just recognizing what’s happening without having to do battle with it.
And perhaps that’s what the Dalai Lama was talking about.
I may never reach the point where anger, fear, or shame stop dropping by.
But maybe I don’t have to.
After all, they’re only visitors.
I don’t have to give them the keys to the house.