I have always been sensitive. A bad day at work, a controversial political event or even a weird look from a person across the room can affect me energetically for hours, even days, sometimes sapping my of energy. But I believe that our greatest weakness can be our greatest strength. As a teacher and writer, my sensitivity allows me to read and adjust to my student’s needs; my natural tendency to pick up on the fluctuations of the world is tied to the curiosity and passion that fuels my writing. This part of my nature has inspired me to do so many things: write a eulogy for my beloved Grandmother’s funeral and adjust the flow of my yoga class because I sensed the need for a student to be challenged.
But being this way is not always comfortable. Sometimes it can be very painful actually, and as I committed to yoga and a spiritual path, I wondered how my fluctuations were living God’s will. Everywhere in spiritual literature we see calm and peace as the aim, so I began my meditation and prayer practices with the focus on becoming grounded in the present moment. With experience, small things became less likely to bring me down, but I’ve also found more self acceptance of my nature, which is constantly moved and shaken by the world around me. I have come to believe that my nature is a God given gift to be appreciated—it just needs to be channeled with care and dealt with intelligently.
My understanding of equanimity has changed, then. I used to think that I needed to attain absolute stillness and peace, yet now I know the impossibility of that goal and also the suffering that such a belief caused me. Rather, in my life, equanimity is akin to the Buddhist observer: detached awareness that doesn’t judge situations and feelings. For so many years, I was simply victim to my feelings, and because my nature can also be negative, I would take the feelings to a negative place, perhaps assuming that I did something wrong if a student of mine was upset or my favorite candidate lost the election. Today, with the observer, I try to step back. When I do observe my student’s energy, and really feel what is going on with her, I choose to channel my insight in a positive manner: I provide her with kindness. And when my emotions go further, which they often do, I attempt to observe myself with that same detached observer, reminding myself of the truth of my nature while also extending kindness to myself. It’s akin to looking at a child having a tantrum and rather than yelling, smiling and saying ‘there she goes again.’ Rather than attempting to modify who I am, I have worked to mold and shape my awareness, which is the only part of my life I can really control. This is my practice of equanimity.
by, Natalie Tomlin