In part one of this blog, I wrote about how when anger is your primary emotion (as it is for a lot of people) it cuts you off from the world, and from the best parts of yourself. I also talked about how anger can only arise from one source. The source is fear, and whether we call it by that name, or by any of its other name (anxiety, insecurity, etc) anger isn’t possible with a substrate of fear.
Something very familiar caught my attention in a public space the other day. I watched someone get very angry over what seemed like very little. The place where I saw this was crowded enough that I was able to watch this person over a period of time without drawing attention to myself.
This morning, I was in class with Mavis Karn and Nikon Gormley. Mavis was telling a story that was a perfect expression of her breathtaking compassion, and a thought came to me: “What a beautiful heart she has.” The thought that came a second later told me something else. “Wait a second, Isn’t that silly? How can one heart be more beautiful than another? They’re all made of exactly the same love.”
Here’s a question that may have occurred to you at some point: why does it seem easier to love some people than others? The answer is so simple it may surprise you.
Early this morning, I found myself laughing hard at myself for something I’d just done. I wish I remembered the action or thought that had made me laugh, but I don’t. In fact, I don’t need to know because laughing at myself is something I often find myself doing when it becomes clear to me I’ve done something that doesn’t make any sense, or is in some way counter to what I’m trying to accomplish.
Yesterday, I was listening to a speech by the author and New York Times columnist, David Brooks. He was talking about moving beyond the challenges we face in life when he said, “You can be broken. Or you can be broken open.” I loved what he was saying, but I have a slightly different take on it.
I was speaking with a client the other day about a big change in his life. He has entered a period of great uncertainty. A more precise way of saying this might be that he’s aware of a great deal of uncertainty in his life. Whether or not we notice it, life is always uncertain. This is a truth most of us shy away from. We equate certainty with security, and most of us would probably rather believe the factors in our lives that matter to us have certainty built into them.
During the past years, and without really wanting to do so, I’ve developed a deep understanding of what it’s like to live with constant physical pain. This understanding has nothing to do with the science behind pain, it’s about the experience of living with pain as a constant companion. I decided a long time ago that it was in my own best interests to learn what I could from pain that might make my life, and perhaps the lives of others, a bit easier.
How often do you hear someone say, when they’re trying to come to grips with a situation, “I’m working on accepting that?”
