A whim took me off my usual route today, just a light little tickle of a thought: What’s up that hill? The road leading up was potholed and uninviting, lined with time-worn houses in cramped, unkempt yards. But still, I was drawn. And when I reached the road’s end, I discovered what had called me– a garden of phlox in full bloom nestled among rocks beneath a blossom-filled tree. It’s wise, I’ve learned, to follow the promptings that playfully tease you to consider a change of course. They often will lead you to wonders that you otherwise wouldn’t have known.
I was half-way listening to some radio interview this week when something one of the guests said grabbed my attention: “Whoever presses your buttons is your master,” he said. How true!
Think about it. There you were, comfortably cruising along in your ordinary world when suddenly somebody stomped on one of your sensitivity buttons. Instant response! Hurt, anger, fight mode. Even if you just sat there hiding it all, inside you were engulfed in a turbulent emotional sea. And the waves just kept sloshing on and on.
When you look at moments like that—and all of us have them—the truth of the radio guy’s statement is plain to see. All your power was swept away by that button-pusher, whether he intended to offend you or not. So the button-pusher became your master.
Button-pushers don’t even have to be present to gain control over us. They can be images from our past, triggered by memory-evoking challenges or events. We store them in little brain-movies that we play over and over, and the button-pusher’s mastery goes on.
So what’s the answer? How do you break free and take back your power?
In my experience, the first step is recognizing that you gave up your self-control, your ownership of yourself, in the first place. I’ve found it helpful to say to myself, “Just because someone is offensive, I don’t have to be offended.” And by “offensive,” I don’t mean simply rude or thoughtless, although that counts, too. I mean the brutal, intentional offenses as well.
You can reclaim a great deal of your composure by recognizing that another person’s remarks or actions say far more about them than they say about you. Maybe they’re having a horrible day. Maybe they’re sick, or tired, or hungry. Maybe they’re angry at somebody or something else and you just happened to get in the way. It really doesn’t matter what the reason. The point is that you have a choice how to respond. “Just because someone is offensive, I don’t have to be offended.”
Remembering that, as I said, is the first step. But by the time you have remembered, you’re already upset. So the next step is to regain your inner peace. And the best way I’ve found to do that is to practice forgiveness.
I don’t mean you have to condone someone’s offensive behavior. I mean you have to forgive yourself for allowing their behavior to disturb your equilibrium. I like to use the mantra “I’m sorry; please forgive me,” said to my own inner self, until peace returns.
Self-forgiveness is self-compassion; it’s the recognition that everyone suffers, and that kindness is the healing balm for our own wounds as well as those of others. Compassionately forgiving yourself for your vulnerability means accepting with kindness that you were acting like a human again. (Such complex creatures!) It stops the waves of hurt and anger from sloshing and restores you to your right mind. You can brush yourself off and move on.
Then you’re in a position to decide rationally how to respond to the button-pusher in a mature and appropriate way. Maybe you’ll choose to forgive him, too. Maybe you’ll decide that you need to talk about the issue in a calm and unemotional way. Maybe you’ll decide that you need to make clear to him that you expect to be treated with more courtesy and respect, that you believe he was out of line. Maybe you’ll decide he doesn’t belong in your life at all and cut your ties to him.
Whatever you decide, once you have regained possession of your emotions, your response—even if it’s a difficult one—will be authentic, made in a state of self-harmony and inner peace by a self who is master of his or her own soul. And isn’t that the goal that we all strive for?
Wishing you a week of brilliant self-mastery and compassion.
The first of the ferns were born today surrounded by sweet spring beauties who sang their arrival to the world and bowed like attentive angels keeping watch as the babies unfurled.
Until I heard your trilling notes floating through my kitchen windows (which are opened for the first time this year, and oh, how sweet the breeze!) and followed the sound to you, so glad in the budding branches, I had no idea that a tiny sparrow’s heart could hold such joy.
Until I heard your trilling notes floating through my kitchen windows, (which are opened for the first time this year, and oh, how sweet the breeze!) and followed the sound to you, so glad in the budding branches, I had no idea that a tiny sparrow’s heart could hold such joy.
Spring beauties cover the hillside now, hundreds and hundreds of them, closing in the rain, opening in joy when the sunshine bursts through the endless banks of cloud. I found this tiny troupe of them In the moss today, dancing for an audience of speedwells in an overture for spring whose melody reached to the very center of my heart, filling it with the One Song, Yes.
This is the grand spring rush, the tumbling of waters down from the hills, fast and glad, pouring the catch of rivulets, creeks and streams down, down, down to the great river, miles below, bringing food for the beaver and fishes, feeding the brush and the trees that line the banks, clearing debris from winter, pushing it ashore. And oh, the song of it! A purposeful roar, smooth and determined, rolling on for days. Down. Down. Down.
Look at you. After all that rain, that soggy soil, the sunless gray day after day, there you are, little one, bright and laughing as if you just woke up in paradise.
Patches of blue peeked through the clouds in mid-morning, disappeared, appeared again. I watched the dance. As the hour neared when the eclipse would be at its peak here, a hundred miles east of the totality, the air, moist and warm, grew still. Somewhere across the valley, a dog gave a single bark. No traffic passed on the road below. Birds were silent. I watched as color evaporated from everything around me, fading light turning even the sky’s blue spaces gray. The trees and I stood together watching, feeling the immensity of it, feeling lucky somehow to be observing such a thing. Why, just look at the way the clouds magnify the remaining visible light! Isn’t that a sight!
While you wait for the waters to recede and for the emergence of green, I will continue to dance for you. I will continue to sing. ‘Though there be snowflakes, And ‘though there be rain, spring’s stage is set, and soon she’ll raise her curtain. Until then, I will continue to dance for you. I will continue to sing.
