I am standing on the edge of a highway. The cars whip by. The trucks lumber by. One particular day but for no particular reason, I jump out in traffic and try and stop the cars and trucks. The reactions vary. I can see the faces of the other drivers and I read their emotions. They range from amusement to rage. Some of thee cars hardly hesitate at all. They might swerve slightly as the drive on. The drivers talk on cell phones or flip me the bird. Others do stop and some find another route. Most that stopped, anxiously await the time that they can restart their commute and path. No matter how long I hold up my traffic guard stop sign, the traffic will continue and soon swamp me in a flood of motion.
Another day, I decide to ignore the traffic. I decide to visual the traffic as something different: fluffy clouds floating across the sky. As I step out to be amongst the clouds, inevitably I will get hit by a car or truck. It probably wont feel like a fluffy cloud.
I can acknowledge the traffic exists. I can let it be itself and learn to accept it. I can’t change it, but I can change how I approach it.
As I try different methods of addressing the traffic, I develop a fear. I decide to avoid the traffic all together. Better yet, I will avoid the highway. I will just stay home and watch Judge Judy, secretly thinking they are getting what they deserve. Soon, even the noise of the highway on a TV show will flood me with panic.
The vehicles are my thoughts. The drivers are my emotions. Regardless of my approach to them, they are there. They whiz by and leave an impression, an effect. If I try and stop them, sooner or later they return, sometimes more fierce than before. If I try and ignore them, I am assaulted by the horns and generally hit by the reality. They scream to be noticed. I can try and run and hide, quaking. The moment will arise when I realize I am also running from living.
I pause on the shoulder of the highway. I accept the cars are there, the emotions driving them. I acknowledge them. I trust that I am not the cars, I am not the drivers. They don’t identify me and they can’t hurt me unless I try to control them.