“Ahhhh!” I sighed as I stormed out into the car.
“Dammit, we are going to be late, again!”
We were rushing to make it to an appointment. I was frustrated as my son was taking his sweet time. I tried to hurry things along, but he wouldn’t have it. Two-year-olds have no concept of time. They just do as they please.
I threw all the bags into the car, which made a thud like a sack of potatoes hitting a deck.
I angrily punched the start-up button, slipped the gear into reverse, and started backing out to turn the car around, ready to leave. The gravel screeched under the wheels as I pressed the accelerator too quickly.
My son heard the noise and frantically ran out of the house, screaming with tears flowing down his face like a river.
I thought I was moving things along. But my hasty actions did NOT help. It only fuelled the fire. He thought Daddy was leaving without him, which left him in a devastated rage.
“Ohhhh!” I paused in a moment of insight.
“This is not how you do it.”
How did I now feel?
Horrible.
I couldn’t erase my son's look of fear from my mind.
Heartbreaking.
And all for what? Cause we needed to “be somewhere?”
Because of the meltdown, we didn’t even get there any faster. BIG lesson there: the peaceful path is the way. It might feel slower, but it’s better in the long run.
Questions painfully lingered like a thorn in my brain:
Why did I feel angry?
Did we even need to be in a “rush”?
Wasn’t my son's wellbeing more important?
These mini-failures can become powerful teaching moments.
You know when you catch yourself?
Maybe you snapped again.
It’s easy to lose your cool, right?
Especially at those closest to us. But for some weird reason, we would HATE to be seen like this by our extended acquaintances, for example, your boss, doctor, hairdresser, or your child’s teacher.
It seems wrong.
Shouldn’t we care less about those we don’t know well? But for some deeply ingrained reason, we feel the need to keep our illusion of perfection for those outside of our inner circle. This need strikingly appears around our parenting abilities. Everyone is pretending to “have it all together”. But really, we’re floating in a tiny lifeboat on a storming sea of chaos, smiling through our teeth, saying, “Life is just dandy, thanks”.
But that’s not really fair on our significant other or children that they become the targets of our outbursts, is it? But the reality is that’s where we feel the allure of the emotional hook most.
That illusion of “I’m so perfect” is shattered into a million little pieces once we snap in a moment of pure rage in front of an innocent passerby.
“OMG!” How embarrassing, right? As you stand there red-faced, face in palm, cringing at your appalling actions.
But there is another way
When you feel that negative energy rising, you can choose another path. You can break the pattern.
I learned a process from the spiritual teacher Pema Chodron to transform those poisonous negative emotions into wisdom.
It starts with a willingness to remain open and receptive to what arises when you are triggered:
Step 1: Acknowledge that you’re hooked.
Step 2: Pause, take three conscious breaths, and lean in.
Lean in to the energy. Abide with it. Experience it fully. Taste it. Touch it. Smell it. Get curious about it. How does it feel in your body? What thoughts does it give birth to? Become very intimate with the itch and urge of shenpa and keep breathing.
Part of this step is learning not to be seduced by the momentum of shenpa. Like Ulysses, we can find our way to hear the call of the sirens without being seduced.
It’s a process of staying awake and compassionate, interrupting the momentum, and refraining from causing harm.
Just do not speak, do not act, and feel the energy. Be one with your own energy, one with the ebb and flow of life. Rather than rejecting the energy, embrace it. This leaning in is very open, curious and intelligent.
Step 3: Then relax and move on.
Just go on with your life so that the practice doesn’t become a big deal, an endurance test, a contest that you win or lose.
FYI, “shenpa” is a Buddhist concept around how certain habits of mind “hook” us and lead to negative emotions.
Easier said than done, I know from experience.
And it’s painful admitting that we are hooked. We don’t like to feel like the sucker. I hated admitting the above experience with my son. But the reality is we all take the bait from time to time, and that’s ok. By reflecting on it, we can truly learn from the experience.
I invite you to try the 3-step process next time you feel that volcano rising from within. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can catch it before the volcano erupts and leave a wake of destruction.
It’s a powerful idea that we can turn that colossal energy into wisdom. We can learn from it, and we can grow.
Oh no! Poor thing!
I am also a victim of my own haste...