You might think I’d be facing the pool, where Evelyn is testing out the still-curled, Styrofoam-like floatie that looks like a magic carpet, and Dave, still travel-drained, sits poolside absorbed in his Kindle. But no, I’m turned towards the West, where the bird feeding and watering station stands. The latest addition is a suet block holder filled with No Melt Hot Pepper Delight—perfect for repelling squirrels, thanks to a dozen of these blocks Dave’s mom gifted us. So far, no problem.
Politics makes my head spin. And on top of that, there’s the pressure to think or believe the same as others. Or the expectation that I should know exactly what I think and feel. I really can’t stand that pressure. It feels reactionary, impulsive, and even threatening. It clouds my ability to think clearly, to consider multiple perspectives, and to figure out how I really want to respond. More often than not, I choose not to respond. And that’s a choice. My silence, my avoidance, my withdrawal from the game only means I believe there’s another way to play.
One where we wait. One where grabbing a lit torch and breaking down the gates, making decisions purely from emotion, isn’t the way forward.
So, how can we create space for genuine thought without falling into passivity or indecision?
When I feel a strong emotion, I gauge the threat—how much the other person is feeling it, whether I’m feeling similarly, or if I disagree. The interesting thing about what we discuss is that beneath it all, there are emotions, and often, fear drives our actions. Earlier in a conversation, I was asked to “pick my brain.” The topic was highly charged with their emotions, and I could feel it, like a door handle that’s burning hot on the other side.
I understood their feelings, but by not joining in their fear, I remained regulated, objective, and able to assess the different angles in my mind—giving me the space to discern and view other perspectives. The response, “I didn’t even think of that,” and helping the individual clarify and focus their goal, worked because I had access to a broader perspective.
In navigating fear-driven conversations, I engage my senses with the physical environment. I’ve learned to squeeze a pressure point in my hand, take in the scenery around me, and focus on my heart rate. My goal is to calm myself—observing my chest move in and out, resting my hand on my chest, and massaging my shoulder. While I remain engaged with the person, I am constantly, symbolically brushing off the dust falling from the emotionally charged content. By grounding myself in the present moment and finding physical anchors, I can create space between my emotions and the conversation. I might even shift the conversation to pointing out a bird or some oddity I see. Make a joke. Something to lighten the mood and help them also decrease their threat response.
I’m the last one out here. Hunger—and a sudden urge to deep-clean the car, inside and out—has pulled Dave and Evelyn onward. Maybe the gusty wind made pool lounging too chilly.
No part of me wants to move. I’m beyond grateful for the cardinal perched at the bird feeder. But alas, I am a quality leather interior detailer. So I’d better get to it.
Love, Jaclynn