I was in the car with an old and dear friend, on the way to what I had hoped would be a lovely Sunday brunch, when it seized me, violently, like a blindsided hostage. I was seasick with dread; my stomach knotted and my heart raced. The downtown streets looked ugly, squalid, and hostile. At first I tried to fight the feeling, then despaired at the thought that our outing was ruined.
Suddenly I remembered Tolle's words: resist nothing.
I relaxed into my discomfort. As if it were the most normal thing in the world. Okay, I decided, so I'm going to feel like this right now. I neither battled nor ignored the sensations, but simply allowed them to blow through my system like a minor typhoon, as my friend continued to tell me about her new house. By the time we were parking, they were already ebbing away. When we sat down at a table, it was hard for me to believe how I had felt only minutes before, and we did have a lovely brunch, after all.
Who woulda thought it? Certainly not me. But that's the beauty of not thinking.
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