I’ve been playing with something when I meditate.
Sometimes I’ll be sitting there, paying attention to my body, and I’ll find something.
A tightness.
A sensation.
Some resistance somewhere that doesn’t want to relax.
Usually I’ll just sit with it for a while. Feel it. See if I can relax it and let it go.
Sometimes that works.
Sometimes it doesn’t.
And sometimes I get the very distinct feeling that I’m not supposed to let this one go.
That’s interesting.
Because consciously I may want to let it go. I’m sitting there trying to let it go.
But there’s another part of me saying:
No.
We need this.
Something bad might happen if we let this go.
I don’t always know what the hell it is.
So sometimes I start trying emotions on for size.
Trying it on
Anger is usually one of the first.
Sadness.
Whatever comes up.
I don’t spend a lot of time trying to intellectually figure out which emotion is the right one. I just try one on and see what my body does.
Sometimes I’ll get a hit.
The body might relax.
Sometimes the emotion itself will come up.
Anger is usually pretty easy to recognize because the tight muscles will almost light up.
Suddenly I’m aware of them.
There it is.
If nothing seems to fit, sometimes I’ll even pull out an emotion chart and look through it.
Anger?
No.
Sadness?
Maybe.
Fear?
And eventually something might hit.
I don’t know exactly what’s happening when I do this. I’m not even sure I need to.
I’m just paying attention.
But I’ve noticed something else from doing this.
Sometimes the emotion I’m feeling right now doesn’t seem to have very much to do with what’s happening right now.
Why does this person piss me off?
I’ve had this happen with people.
Someone does something or there’s just something about them that instantly pisses me off.
And, of course, the easiest explanation is:
This guy is an asshole.
Case closed.
And maybe he is.
But sometimes my reaction feels like it’s worth taking a longer look at.
Why did that bother me so much?
Why did my body react that quickly?
So instead of only analyzing the person, I’ll pay attention to what’s happening inside me.
I’ll feel the reaction.
Try on anger.
Try on another emotion.
See what lights up.
I had one of those experiences where eventually something clicked.
This person’s energy reminded me of a guy who bullied me when I was in school.
It wasn’t necessarily some great intellectual realization.
It was more like:
Oh.
I know this feeling.
My nervous system seemed to recognize something familiar before I consciously did.
And then I ran into the really interesting part.
I didn’t want to let it go.
If I let it go, he wins
When I got underneath the anger, there was this feeling:
If I let this go, he wins and I lose.
Now consciously, I know that doesn’t make much sense.
This wasn’t happening in school anymore.
The guy wasn’t standing there waiting to collect a trophy because I finally stopped being angry.
I knew that.
And yet the feeling was there.
That’s the part I find fascinating.
Because I could explain to myself all day long why I should let it go.
It doesn’t matter anymore.
You’re older now.
It’s over.
Holding onto it isn’t accomplishing anything.
Blah, blah, blah.
My conscious mind already knew all of that.
But apparently another part of me hadn’t gotten the memo.
To that part, holding onto this thing still seemed important.
Maybe the anger had a job.
Don’t forget.
Don’t let him win.
Don’t let this happen again.
Be careful.
And if that’s what the anger is doing, telling myself to just let it go suddenly becomes a very different request.
I’m asking some part of myself to give up something it believes is protecting me.
No wonder there’s resistance.
What if you could?
That’s where I’ve started playing with a different question.
I don’t tell myself:
You need to let this go.
Instead:
I know you can’t let this go right now.
Okay.
Then don’t.
I’m not going to fight with it.
But…
What if you could?
You don’t actually have to.
I’m not asking you to forgive anybody.
I’m not asking you to pretend something didn’t happen.
I’m not asking you to decide that you shouldn’t be angry.
I’m just asking:
If you could let this go, what would that feel like?
That’s a very different question.
Because now I don’t have to defend anything.
I don’t have to decide whether letting go is right or wrong.
I can just try it on.
The same way I try anger on.
The same way I try sadness on.
What does not carrying this anymore feel like?
Just for a second.
And what does my body do with that?
It got smaller
Eventually, I was able to release some of what I had been holding around that old experience.
And here’s what didn’t happen.
He didn’t win.
I didn’t lose.
I didn’t forget what happened.
I didn’t suddenly decide that being bullied was okay.
None of the things that some part of me seemed worried about actually had to happen for me to stop carrying so much of it.
And the interesting thing is, the old warning hasn’t completely disappeared.
There’s still something there.
But now it feels small.
Every once in a while my nervous system still seems to whisper:
Be careful.
Okay.
I can live with that.
Because be careful is a hell of a lot different from having my entire body react as though the bully just walked back into the room.
Maybe that’s what letting go actually looks like sometimes.
Not forgetting.
Not forgiving.
Not pretending.
Not convincing yourself that something didn’t matter.
Maybe letting go doesn’t mean your nervous system forgets.
Maybe it just means it doesn’t have to scream anymore.
And I’ve started wondering how many things we carry around like this.
Anger.
Fear.
Sadness.
Resentment.
Things we say we desperately want to get rid of while some quieter part of us is hanging onto them for dear life.
Maybe instead of fighting that part, we could get curious about it.
Maybe instead of:
Why can’t I let this fucking thing go?
We could try something gentler.
I know you can’t right now.
That’s okay.
But what if you could?
What would that feel like?
You don’t have to let go of anything.
Just try it on for size.
Live Long and Prosper, 🖖🏼
-Dan