Finding a pause in our rage
Feb 04, 2025
By Sally Prebble (PhD), Co-founder Peace Talks NZ
"Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom."
Victor Frankl
An explosion of some sort was building....
The noise from the back seat was phenomenal - squealing, incoherent, high pitched, unrelenting. The jostling was intensifying and I could feel hands, legs and heads thumping against the back of my seat as I tried to fix my attention on the busy road ahead, brows furrowed tight in concentration against the glare of the sun.
Another thump. More high-pitched squealing. Laughter? No, crying this time. “He HIT meeeee!!!!” “No I DIDN’T….he had his head in my waayyy!!!”
I felt tension ratcheting inside me…the traffic, the noise, the endless fighting…something threatened to erupt.
The end result of this sort of inner build up was usually as predictable as it was unfortunate - I would eventually turn around and shout at them, they might shout back, maybe one of them would cry...my shouts would add to, rather than stop, the cacophony.
But interestingly on this particular day, in the split second between noticing my rising fury and it's outflow, I became aware of an infinitesimal pause….
Within this fragment of a moment, the possibility of choice emerged.
This time (unlike so many previous occasions) I found I was able to choose to lean my attention inwards towards my inner experience, with the keen attitude of one straining to hear a conversation of great interest through the static of a bad long-distance phone line. I was able to notice - observe - the bodily sensations of my anger, tracing their contours with curiosity:
...frustration and burning tightness…jaw clamped tight...shoulders, high and clenched…hands hard and gripping the steering wheel…breath quick and high in chest...hollow empty feeling in stomach...rawness in throat…anger, frustration....fear?
As though buoyed by the acknowledgment of these feelings, my awareness expanded and more bubbled into consciousness - I was able to notice my thoughts, coming into focus like the shrieking voice of an unhinged sports commentator:
“They shouldn’t be fighting while I drive! It’s so bloody dangerous!! They’re so loud! They don’t even care if we crash….”
And there was more, hidden like glistening gems in the muddy confusion of these thoughts - I started to notice my needs - the essence of what I was longing for most in that moment:
A longing for calm, peace and focus. A deep wish for consideration as I tried to drive us home. A fervent desire for us to all get home safely.
These needs seemed so reasonable, so understandable, so human.
Air flooded back into my lungs as I breathed into the delicious humanness of my needs. Something opened up in me - an uncoiling in my chest that created a small but vital space, a space of softness just large enough to allow me to voice a request:
“Hey kids, I’m feeling a bit scared right now because it’s hard for me to drive safely when there is noise in the car. Can you think of something you could do together that would be fun for you and a bit quieter for me?”
As it turns out, on this occasion the answer was no, they couldn’t. And as it turns out, on this occasion that was ok. Because that small, gentle space that opened up in me was enough to hold us all with love and care until we arrived home safely.
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