Reacting is a choice. I know that, but I knew it in the 'yeah, yeah' way of looking in both directions before crossing the street, clocking your surroundings before walking to your car at night--you know, things you know but often dismiss for the sake of time-saving. Or laziness.
But I started thinking about it this weekend, for no other reason than I found myself in one of those rare moments of witnessing my own thoughts from a distance. It was a lightbulb moment--*you don't HAVE to give this your attention; it is not asking that of you, and by imposing your own attention, your own frizzled energy, you don't block it or end it or avoid it--you feed it.*
It's entirely possible to sit back, prop up your feet, and watch the uncomfortable moment come in, like you'd watch the tide gain the beach, then recede.
Discomfort, I think, is more a spectator sport than one requiring full-body contact. And, really, we don't have to play.