(Not Quite) Getting Away With It

I was naughty today. I won’t go into what I did. But let me just say I did something rude and insensitive. I knew I wasn’t going to get away with it, but I did it anyway. Naturally, as soon as I did it, I felt bad about it. But isn’t that why I did it?

The person I did it to has been difficult and selfish recently. Of course, he is in authority over me. There would have been no point in being naughty if he weren’t. He just expects me to do things for him, without asking and without being thanked. I’ve spent months trying to please him and avert angering him. To no avail, I might add. I fear the relationship is irreparably broken between us. Having determined this, I have begun to act out.

When he called me about it, I didn’t apologize. I did, however, assure him that I would fix it immediately. Because I am not really that good at being naughty. And I dislike having anyone angry with me.

Needless to say, I did not feel very good about this after it was done. I felt angry. Angry with myself. Angry with him. Angry with the situation I find myself in. I am not the moody buddhist for nothing.

I could have spent my day beating myself up that I tried to get away with something, knew I was not going to, and then succumbed to helping this man when I did not want to help him. That would have been how I handled it in the past.

Instead, I listened to Tara Brach talk about Equanimity. Equanimity seemed as far away from how I was feeling as it is possible to feel. Yet equanimity is always available. Simply by saying yes. Yes to feeling angry, yes to feeling disappointed, yes to feeling frustrated.

This seems foreign to me. I’ve spent most of my life saying no. No to liking myself, no to the personality I have, no to what I look like, how I feel, what I do, where I go, how things are. No, no, no. I can always summon up a no. Yes? It’s okay to be angry? It’s okay to want to fight? How can this be?

The reality is, this is how I feel. I can feel no other way. I can be attached to it, fight it, wish it were different. It changes nothing. Or I can acquiesce, say yes. Keep saying yes to it until I accept it. Saying it over and over to myself, it begins to feel right. More right than anything has ever felt. Yes, I feel angry. Really, that still hasn’t changed as I write this. But I’m no longer seething, crying, wishing it were different. It just is.