Have you ever noticed yourself doing whatever you could to avoid actually having to feel what you were experiencing?
Humans spend a great deal of time and energy doing this. Lots of us will be willing to experience something as long as we don’t have to feel it.
Huh? That seems to suggest we’ve decided that the physical experience is easier and safer to deal with than having to feel the emotion underlying the experience. Think about that for a minute. Does it feel like something is out of balance?
Here’s the part that’s easy to miss. Good feelings, bad feelings, all feelings come directly from what we’re thinking. A feeling is nothing more than a reflection of thought. A thought becomes a feeling so fast it can be difficult to see the connection. And thoughts can be harder to monitor than feelings.
Another way to say that is, thoughts can easily slip under our radar. Feelings are less likely to slip under the radar because, well, we feel them. (They’re called “feelings” after all.)
The question then, becomes how can the actual, physical experience be easier to deal with the thoughts and feelings we have about it?
The answer has to do with just how powerful thoughts can be. The more seriously we take our thinking, and it’s easy to take it very seriously, whatever we’re thinking seems more difficult, and more real.
I can’t count how many times I’ve thought I’d learned this lesson! But at times, it still takes me by surprise. Sometimes, I’ll just jump into a task or project I’d really like to get done, and at other times I’ll find myself thinking, no, overthinking the task.
Here’s a perfect example: I swim every day during the summer. Some days, especially if it’s cool and cloudy and the water feels cold, I can overthink diving into the water to the point where I feel paralyzed.
Those are the rare days when I linger by the side of the pool, trying to “think” my way in. On those days, I’m both prolonging and exaggerating the torture of diving into cold water.
I know the easiest thing for me to do is to just dive in. The shock of the cold water will last for a few seconds, that’ll be that I will have started my laps, and I won’t have to think about cold water anymore.
In other words, feeling the cold water is easier than thinking about how it’s going to feel. In my experience, that’s true of every activity or experience I can think of.
When I’m willing to feel what I’m experiencing, it’s invariably easier to get on with it. Not to mention how much better the quality of whatever I’m doing is when I’m willing to feel what’s happening.
Is it really easier to dive into cold water than it is to think about diving into cold water? Only about a million times easier. The cold water in my mind’s eye is insurmountable. I can never deal successfully with an action that stays in my mind without being translated into activity.
Each time I choose not to feel something I’m deadening myself a little. Added to that, I’m cutting myself off from real-time feedback that I’ll need to make mid-course corrections. Does this sound like a workable long-term strategy? How can I possibly do my best when I’m not willing to let myself feel what I’m doing?
I’ve come to see that when I try to cut myself off from what I’m feeling, I’m making life into more work than it needs to be. Imagine trying to drive a car with your eyes closed, so you don’t see anything unpleasant or potentially frightening.
It’s easy to see the limitations driving without seeing creates. And here’s the thing: trying to navigate life without feeling your reactions to life puts you at the same sort of enormous disadvantage. Can you think of a single good reason to do that to yourself?
