Wait and Listen – Reflections on Letting Go Our Stories

I sense fear attempting to hook my thoughts into believing that I don’t have another decent essay in me.  I write a few sentences and delete them immediately judging them to be performative and boring.  Thankfully however, I have become very familiar with this pattern of stress, so I pause, intercepting my mind from completely derailing me.

In the pause, I start breathing more deeply, allowing air to expand into the tense spots in my chest.  As thoughts appear trying to make a big story about how this discomfort proves that I’m not a good enough writer, I gently allow them to pass as I keep focusing on my breath.  Space begins to open in my mind and in that openness, I playfully challenge myself  – is it true that you don’t have another essay in you?  I smirk, knowing that when I listen and channel what is in my soul, there is always more to express.

In this space, a different quality of thoughts emerge – ones that feel more tender and vulnerable, yet also full of creative potential and wonder.   These thoughts never demand or scream, rather they whisper and nudge me – this time to just start writing about what I am experiencing in this very moment and to trust what will unfold… and so began the essay you are reading.

I am noticing how often I tangle stories into my lived experience because my mind is constantly seeking explanations to feel some sense of safety and certainty.  Sometimes my stories can feel validating and uplifting, at other times my stories deflect pain by blaming or shaming, like the one I was telling myself about not being a good writer.  For years, I have taken cues from positive psychology and tried to overcome my disempowering stories by telling myself empowering stories.  To an extent, that has been helpful; however, lately I have been called to consider that all stories, the ones that feel good as well as the ones that don’t feel good, limit the access to a deeper, more creative energy – the energy that has that quality of vibrating stillness – the liberating energy of divine love, as described in this poem Wait and Listen.

Wait and Listen

Wait and listen …

Not to the anxious cravings for easy distraction
Not to the belittling shame of not doing enough
Not to the prodding demands to keep pushing
Not to the crushing weight of each imperfection

Wait and listen …

For the mystery within the semblance of nothingness
For the stillness where the tangles of thought loosen
For the subtle sensations signaling within the body
For the spontaneous arising of words and movement

Wait and listen …

As this discernment gives agency to live in freedom

-Tejal Tarro

Beyond the stories I tell myself, I have noticed how the stories I imagine about others limits access to deeper connection, especially with people who challenge my beliefs. My stories often create a false sense of self worth that is based on comparison with another, with my mind consumed in proving my story as right and the others’ as wrong. And for a while I can bask in the false high of my own righteousness, but this behavior is at the unfortunate cost of harmony in relationships. And this false high is something I no longer am willing to indulge in as the cost feels too great, especially sensing how it contributes to the polarization we are experiencing in society.

So lately I’ve been making it a practice to let go of stories I tell myself about others, especially when I feel challenged, to see what emerges in the moment. It is the same practice I use with myself of noticing the tension, breathing into my body, pausing to intercept the story and then challenging the story to open space for shifting the energy. I would love to say that this practice has resulted in some idyllic image of harmony where we embrace joyfully in soulful recognition of our unity. That has not been the case.

I can only influence my part of an interaction, and since we all bring our own unique flavor of conditioned thinking and unprocessed emotional trauma to difficult conversations, each situation results differently. What I can say I have noticed is that I feel a deeper sense of mental and emotional freedom in these conversations and sense that I am better able to influence shifts on a subtle level.

Recently, I was engaging in a challenging conversation with a friend who held very different social views than me. He said he wanted an open discussion about our views, but I could sense he was tense and almost baiting me to trigger him. I felt if I could stay calm and grounded, then I could avoid setting him off. However, I learned quickly that his nervous system was in intense fight or flight, making anything I said triggering.

As I felt emotions rising in him, I could also feel the draw of emotions wanting to rise in me. I felt the desire to prove him wrong and me as right, for him as bad and me as good, for him as ignorant and me as intelligent, for him as immature and me as evolved. However, thankfully again I remembered my practice. As he was speaking, I paused and took deep breaths. I let my judgmental thoughts pass by and waited patiently for an opening in my mind. In that opening, I asked myself. Is he totally wrong, bad, ignorant and immature? The answer was no. I had known him for years, and knew him also to be generous, kind and intelligent. As I relaxed my judgements, I started feeling that vibrating stillness, even as he was still fervently expressing his views.

In that stillness I sensed underneath his arguments, was the emotional desire to be loved in conflict with conditioned thinking that people with my views hated him. I also felt the nudge to stop trying to prove my counterpoints, and simply state one question. I said to him, “I don’t really care what your particular views are, nor mine for that matter. I love you no matter what you believe. What I care about is whether our beliefs give access to more love for everyone, including ourselves. What do your beliefs do for you?”

I felt no desire to run after him to soothe his discomfort, because I felt what I said was true to me, kind to him and whittled down to only what was necessary to speak in that moment.  I have learned that everyone is on their own journey of growth and discovery, and deserves the dignity to navigate their own path. I am not here to fix anyone, only to show up authentically and allow divine love, in whatever form, to emerge from that vibrating stillness.

The next day, he texted me saying that he spent a lot of time reflecting on the exchange and on himself, with a recognition about needing greater physical self care. I don’t think I changed his social views, but I sensed that something in him softened and opened, and that there was space for us to continue the exploration. From one perspective, this outcome can seem completely unsatisfactory. What was really accomplished that was tangible?

However, if I look at it from a subtler level, these small mental and emotional shifts can add up to big change, individually and collectively. What I see is that many of us, especially leaders, are trying to solve big problems from a space of conditioned thinking and unprocessed emotional trauma. While our intentions may be in service to what we believe is the greater good, when our actions come from harsh judgement, we continue to feed the pendulums of triggered reactions that reinforce the divisiveness we are experiencing.

When facing others with views and behaviors that we believe to be harmful, it can feel very frustrating to keep looking inward at our own behaviors, but I believe leadership calls for it. Responsiveness from divine love does not mean that we comply, conform or abandon what we feel is important. Rather it means that when we ourselves have the agency to live in mental and emotional freedom, and when we give up our fixed stories of how change must look, then we become even more powerful to influence sustainable transformation.