The potential for observation is arguably the linchpin of being human. We can ascend to our higher thoughts and look down at our lower ones, allowing us to consider.
Often what follows when a negative emotion comes barreling in is a posse of pessimistic ideas. Suppose we don't hear from a friend in awhile.
"She hates me."
"She took offense about that comment I made the last time we were together."
"Maybe her husband thinks I am a bad influence."
It's remarkable really, the spectrum of grim possibilities that come flooding in like a leaky rowboat. All that happened is she hasn't called lately. Maybe I haven't either, and yet that detail does not make the cut.
If it were possible to step back, or rather up,
as if in a balcony we would be able to observe both the circumstances and our own behavior. Which is the cleaver between a rational person and an attack dog. I mean, I would be thrilled to be paired with a Doberman if I were prowling the streets of Baghdad at midnight. But fierce defensiveness is problematic when I want to resolve a conflict with
someone I actually love.
When a jaundiced feeling grabs hold of me, it behooves me to disentangle the inevitable malicious ideas. If a corrosive belief snags my attention, resist the cadre of dark sentiments. Depriving those influences of their cohorts diminishes their power.
"I feel jealous. I wonder what that is about."
"He ended the discussion abruptly. Maybe there are reasons besides my default of blame."
It is perhaps one way of graduating from a stunt man in our own life's drama to a screenwriter. Which I think involves a raise.
The man who crafted the
strategies in the small group I am currently enjoying is in the queue for heaven. Each week he looks more weary, as the life force ebbs from his body of almost a century. He has given his career to the architecture of practical steps for spiritual growth. The throng of people who will mourn his passing are vastly outnumbered by the host that will
embrace him when he arrives. My mother and father will be among them.
