Despite all our technological advances, isn’t life still full of mystery?  One enigma is our emotional inconsistency.  Some days we are the essence of centeredness and calm.  Then, out of seemingly nowhere, we are quick to explode.  We may be expert at hiding our emotional eruptions.  But even if they aren’t apparent to others, we know (if we’re honest with ourselves) that our inner switch is flipped—we’re enraged, furious, incensed.  Then we feel ashamed.  We deny our feelings to others and our self.  But do we take the time to ask—why does this situation lead to a sudden burst of anger?

Emotions don’t always give us “accurate” information about our environment but if we learn to use this unique internal software, we can benefit from our emotional data.  Through trial and error, we can learn our personal “program.”  We can repair any “faulty wiring” and analyze the emotional reports generated moment by moment.  Then we can use our emotions as an internal GPS—a guide through the dizzying array of choices we face everyday.

This week, on two different occasions, I was uncharacteristically outraged.  As I thought about each event, I realized that my anger was recurring –and growing.

My short fuse shows me that my choices aren’t working.  In one case, I’ve found myself fuming after a prospective buyer is a ½ hour late for a showing of our home.  Why such an over-reaction?  It “shouldn’t be” such a big deal.  Then I realize that after a year of showing the house, I’ve become more frazzled and frustrated with the endless trials of selling a house.  My emotions tell me, “Enough!   It is time to give up (for now).”

My other challenge is a relationship.  I’ve tried to “make it work” but my reactions give me another message.  I’m not weathering minor conflicts well.  Each small struggle seems huge to me.  I’m quick to feel outrage, to sulk, or brood over an injustice that, in other situations, I’d barely notice.  When I think of ending our contact, my anger subsides and I immediately feel calm.   I may argue that I “shouldn’t” let this friendship end.  Maybe I “shouldn’t.”  But if I’ve worked through my psychological blind spots (an ongoing task), my current emotions may discern more about a situation than I (as yet) consciously understand.  It may be months or years before I finally comprehend what my unconscious emotional self knew all along.

I don’t like being angry. (Who does?) Rage is murder on the immune system and people don’t like a furious person.  But anger gets my attention.  It’s like a good friend who will tell me the truth, even when I don’t want to hear it.

All emotions send us daily data that we can use for better living.  Are you utilizing the messages of your emotions–your internal GPS?

One of my triggers is a desire to “fight for my rights” if I sense that I’m not supported in my work.  My fight response may manifest subtly as a tenacious search for an “unavailable” library book or the dogged pursuit of information from a tight-lipped colleague.  But underneath my smiling mask, I’m angry and even a bit paranoid at my treatment.  Why is this book unavailable when I know interlibrary loan has hundreds of copies to share?  Previously, the librarian had seemed miffed at my voracious reading habit.  Are her curt responses a way to dissuade my extensive borrowing?  Or am I imagining this?   Just because I’m (somewhat) paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get me…..

One of the many benefits of EI is that, knowing my patterns, I can question my assumptions and try to avoid overreacting to real or imagined threats.  While I mostly relate with patience and kindness to others, if I’m triggered, my distrust looms large.  Suddenly simple conversations become minefields.  I expect the worst and then….I get it.  Instead of peaceful and pleasant exchanges, I find that others are angry and unreasonable.  Why won’t they help me get what I need?

It’s remarkable to realize that even when I try to hide my fear or anger, others sense it and react.  Because we are all civilized humans, our squirmishes can be extremely subtle and happen in a microsecond.  We may be smiling but through tiny shifts of nonverbals and inflections, we’ll send a message covertly.  The true dimensions of our fight happen outside our awareness.  Then we can each feel innocent and victimized.

I’ve learned through much inner work that I can trust my intuitions.  I’m not crazy.  My librarian may indeed be thwarting my desires.  But even if she is, my inner reactions say more about my own psyche than the outward situation.  Why are my reactions to this so strong?  (No one else might see it, but I know I’ve been triggered.)   My book requests are important to me.  They represent a chance at learning and growth and advancement.  I’ve coached myself throughout this past year to not react too strongly when “Rita” seems to avoid my requests.  When she wouldn’t answer my emails, I went to her office and had a pleasant visit.  Another time, when she seemed upset, I brought cookies.  We’ve had great chats and my book crisis seemed solved–my patience rewarded.  But then I get another cryptic email and my anger and despair rush forward.

I’ll keep working on my reactions.  Rita may be slow to help, or maybe I continue to misread her communications.  Whatever the case, these events offer great stories for my training and a hefty opportunity to explore some “hot” wiring in my psyche.  And my discomfort?  A wise teacher once helped me see that my discomfort is a form of grief –in this case, grief from some past injustice.  She told me that if I could simply allow myself to feel this pain, i.e. to grieve, my feelings would dissipate and lose their hold.  A simple concept and so hard to do!  But she was right. As I feel these difficult emotions, they pass through me and I grow stronger.

I write to remind myself of what I already know.  To encourage myself to feel my grief when I want to wring Rita’s neck.  It’s a small thing, a library book, but the small moments can teach us the most.  Huge events can be too overwhelming.  Or we rationalize and say that our extreme reactions are justified because the issue is so big.

What small events push your buttons? Is there grief hiding under your anger?

On of our network members, Shabbir Latif, wrote this reflection about putting emotional intelligence into action:

I live in San Jose and work in Soledad (90 miles) away where I rent a room for four days during week. When I first started working in Soledad, I used to go swimming at a 24 Hrs Fitness center in Salinas, about 25miles away. I have been swimming regularly since when I was a kid and this 25 miles drive was acceptable. During my workout, I swim different strokes, including butterfly. One day as I was swimming butterfly, I was stopped by a lady, she said it was against pool etiquette to swim butterfly. I was aghast, I thought, “What does she mean against pool etiquette. I have been swimming all my life and never heard of any such claim!” The first couple of times I switched to a different stroke. When this happened more than twice, I decided that I had enough.

I used to swim butterfly three-quarters of the way in my set. The lady entered the pool about that time. One day before I started my swim, I asked people around if they mind my swimming butterfly. Everybody I asked responded in negative. One person even said not to worry about that lady, “She complains all the time.” That day when I was stopped by the lady once more, I told her that I had asked everybody and nobody has any problem; so I don’t see any problem and just continued swimming butterfly. The lady shouted “#%@x you” at me, when I left the pool. Obviously this shook me up even more. While I was showering I started thinking, “Hey I am facilitating groups on anger management and conflict resolution, what am I doing? I will be thinking about this problem when ever I come here, and won’t be at peace until it is resolved.” So after my shower, I put my swimsuit on and returned to the pool. The lady had a waist-float and was walking back and forth in the pool. I went straight to her and calmly said, “Excuse me lady, there are enough people fighting in this world; we both come here for our peace of mind so let us resolve this problem. I can see you are bothered by my swimming butterfly.” At first she was still hostile and said she cannot stop from her work out. I got into the pool and started following her while I was talking. After I acknowledge her problem, she agreed and said that I was right, there are two many wars. She explained that she didn’t want to have her hair wet and butterfly created lots of waves. I asked her what day, what time she was coming and that I was coming one day a week and I am willing to accommodate her schedule. Her anger went away and she started advising me that I should swim more often and one day was not enough. In any case, she ended up by stating, I need not worry, there won’t be any problem any more, and that I don’t need to adjust my schedule. We left after knowing ourselves on first name bases.

I didn’t see the lady anymore for several weeks. One day I was late and I met her entering the facility while I was leaving. She greeted me and commented that I was late. I told her that I work in Soledad and sometimes get out late from work. She exclaimed why I was coming all the way here when there a beautiful pool in Soledad. I couldn’t believe her. She said she was a real estate agent and she is sure. Upon checking I discovered that there is pool five minutes from the room I am renting and the Olympic size pool is much more beautiful facility than the little pool at 24 Hrs Fitness.

Just before this incident, I had read, Unlikely Teachers: Finding hidden gifts in daily conflicts by Judi Ringer. I learned my lesson experientially. Judy is an Aikido Grand Master and she says every opponent on the mat has something for us to teach. She continues, “You are practicing Aikido whenever you listen with curiosity to an opposing view or search for mutual understanding, respect, and purpose.
She quotes Einstein,

“From discourse, find harmony.
In the middle of difficulty, lies opportunity.”

Now I not just know about this, I know it. I hope you get a chance to experience this too.
Be in Peace and Grow!

sml:-)
Shabbir M. Latif, M.S. Therapeutic Recreation, CTRS.
Xtra-assist Consulting; shabbir@xtra-assist.com
Six Seconds Certified EQ Associate
Electrical Engineer, Ph.D.

A friend recently confided that he had “acted badly” at work. He had raised his voice and snapped at his team. Now he felt ashamed.

I asked him to describe the situation.

“Greg” had repeatedly asked his logistics team to bill their trucking partners using new parameters. Time and again, Greg discovered that several of his staff were still using outdated pricing. This was unacceptable!

His anger seemed understandable to me—Greg’s directives were being ignored. Of course he felt angry. But instead of recognizing that his anger was an internal message to take action–Greg simply felt that it was “bad.” Ironically, suppressing his anger led to a bigger outburst. If he had allowed himself to simply acknowledge his mounting frustration–first to himself, and then to the others–Greg could have expressed himself with more skill.

While anger can lead to many harmful behaviors, anger itself is not the problem. If we feel ashamed of our anger (a common response) it will be even harder to navigate this emotion.

How do we change out of a destructive pattern?

Emma (my daughter, now 9) frequently makes a big fuss when it’s time to do work that’s not appealing, especially “dumb writing homework” (despite usually liking writing and being an outstanding student).  This has gone on for years, but a couple of weeks ago I noticed myself becoming very reactive.  I was getting more and more irritated with her — and the irritation about homework seemed to be bleeding into our relationship-in-general.

I’d say hello in the morning and she’d grouch at me… say hello in the afternoon and she’d ignore me.  Then the homework fuss would come up, and I found myself thinking in such a judgmental way, labeling her as “drama queen,” “irrational,” and a few I won’t put in print.  As my frustration grew, I found myself thinking things like, “she can bloody well sit in her room ’till the work is done” (and thinking it with a kind of violent savagery ala “that will show her!”).

There are two aspects of this reaction that I’d like to explore with you:

First, when I felt disrespected and excluded, my patience for the “homework drama” plummeted.  My hurt feelings translated to wanting to hurt back.

Second, as I was feeling impatient, I fell into a pattern of force (power and control) and dealing with superficial “facts” — despite my certain knowledge that this DOES NOT WORK.

In Six Seconds’ work on change, we teach that people behave the way they do for emotionally valid reasons, and that unless you change the underlying emotional dynamic, you don’t create change.  This concept is explained well in Alan Deutschman’s book, Change or Die, which I constantly talk about (here’s an interview I did with him about this).  Deutschman says the dominant, but failing, paradigm when trying to drive change is to use facts, force and fear.

As I get more and more frustrated, I begin to rely on power and control.  I start using facts to back up how right I am, and force to reinforce my sense of power, and fear to accentuate my own power over her.  In that FFF paradigm, we try to make people change.  This doesn’t work, because people don’t want to be forced.  When people feel pushed, they resist.  The resistance causes them to protect, and they become less open to risk.  Meanwhile as we push, we become more irritated and less open to understand what they’re feeling and what’s really blocking the change.

Nice mess — and I KNOW this, but knowledge is not enough.  So here I am, getting frustrated with my daughter, and the more frustrated I get, the more I find myself shooting down this track, a track that I intellectually know leads only to more frustration.  But nonetheless, I’m sucked in.  It’s like I’m in a terrible daytime TV show where these messages are beamed into my brain.  And the more irritated I get, the more I’m in this reactive, superficial, destructive mindset.

Once I started to reflect I could see this pattern — this track I was on.  Which was great to recognize, but then what?  Getting off requires a shift in thinking+feelings — a way to step out of the dynamic.

Fortunately, it came a day later at bedtime.

I was just kissing my daughter goodnight and she had a rare evening of not having a book in hand… so welcomed a sleepy snuggle.  She’s so big now, and so fierce in her opinions.  But laying next to her I had this vivid memory of 9 years ago when we were on our first long plane ride and told her about it.

So long as one of us was walking around holding her, Emma was content.  But as soon as we sat down she fussed.  I remember walking up and down the long 747 aisles in the dark, with glimpses of night as we walked past the rows of windows, pacing endlessly at 500 miles per hour with this sleepy warm angel.

I remember quietly singing the same little song over and over and over (“la mar estaba serena, serena estaba la mar…”).  Probably as much for me as her; I can still feel the soothing rhythm of it.

I remember looking out the small galley window, watching the endless stretches of Nordic ice in the moonlight, and wondering at the infinite variety of that unknown alien landscape, so cold and distant.

At the time, I had no sense that this would become a precious memory… but now it’s so vivid… and tinged with the sepia tones of nostalgia.  Amazing what become printed in our hearts.

And from that place of appreciation, the whole “homework drama frustration” simply evaporated.  I remembered the precious (and willful) innocence inside this person.  I “made her good” in my mind and heart and this let me step off the reactive track.  This emotional connection is empathy, and it’s a doorway to a whole new way of seeing — and the antidote to the FFF paradigm.

In the week since that evening, we’ve had no conversation about changing the “homework drama,” but it just hasn’t come up.  It’s like the circuit is (at least for the moment) diffused.  While it’s likely to resurface, I’m now more keenly aware of the trap — and at least one way out.

♥

While I’ve never lived in another country, I have lived for long periods in the Midwest and California. As I moved from one region to another, I felt a seismic shift between two cultures that seemed radically different in their approach to emotions. Were my encounters atypical? Perhaps. Still, as I contemplate my 20-year study of the “inner life,” I’m fascinated by the differences I found—especially regarding anger.

At 26, I left the Midwest (and the Catholic Church) and moved to California. I began a 10-year odyssey, exploring theatre arts, psychology, and “consciousness studies” in Berkeley, San Francisco, and other mind-bending communities. I was surrounded by groups who explored their emotions without dodging the great taboo—anger. With talented professionals and earnest friends, I intrepidly began to explore my own inner minefield–sore spots, wounds, (complexes for the Freudian/Jungians out there) and springs of anger.

When I returned to the Midwest, I felt immediately disoriented. My family and friends seemed to have a radically different set of norms. While I had painstakingly learned to identify my feelings and gently admit them to others—now even the slightest acknowledgement of anger seemed to threaten my companions. All my hard-won inner knowledge and commitment to honest communication was suddenly destroying a fragile emotional ecosystem I no longer understood (or appreciated).

I’ve been back in the Midwest for 12 years now, longer than the time I spent in exotic California. I continue to explore my own inner landscape and the taboo of anger. In my workshops, it seems to be the emotion that most haunts my participants, especially the women. When I discovered the field of emotional intelligence, I was grateful for its validation of my own beliefs—that anger was a necessary emotion that should be examined, not repressed.

Have you experienced regional or cultural differences regarding different emotions?

I feel that emotions are adaptive, and so, that means all emotions. Anger, for example, rises from a sense of injustice, or from a goal being blocked. Anger can be quite adaptive, such as when it fuels people to seek change. The problem is that this message is sometimes heard in a way that allows people to justify their petty tirades, disrepectful behavior or angry outbursts. I try to balance the message by indicating that anger is the most frequently expressed emotion at work and that happiness and other emotions are adaptive because they increase cooperative behaviors, idea generation, etc. But all too often the message does not get across. I would like to find a way to communicate the idea of emotions as adaptive, that anger has its place, but only expressed in a smart way in certain, limited situations.

Is it emotionally intelligent to fight? New study from University of Michigan divides 192 couples 3 groups based on “unfair attacks”:

1. both partners communicate their anger;
2. one spouse expresses while the other suppresses;
3. both suppress their anger and brood.

Preliminary finding after 17 years is that group 3 is at risk. Ernest Harburg, professor emeritus with the U-M School of Public Health and the Psychology Department, and lead author:

“When both spouses suppress their anger at the other when unfairly attacked, earlier death was twice as likely than in all other types.” Source: Physorg

Sometimes people think emotional intelligence is the same as “being nice.” Based on this data, though, the intelligent use of emotion is to fight! Or maybe to fight nicely.

At the core of emotional intelligence is a choice between consciousness and reactivity. “Fight or Flow” explores that choice and provides practical strategies for practicing emotional intelligence.

Have you ever seen one of those fountains where a large stone sphere seems to float on a cushion of water? Hundreds of pounds of rock glide in swirling circles — apparently effortless.

What if we could interact with other people with that same calm, powerful, effortless ease? One major reason we don’t is that we get caught up in small tensions and conflicts. These “bumps” usually escalate into two sides both needing to be right because we’re so good at sensing danger.

At the very core of our being is a set of reactions that help us survive. Thousands of years of practice have refined our ability to protect ourselves from threat and danger. We don’t have turtle-like shells or tiger-like fangs — we have super-sensitive brains.

When our brains perceive a threat, they react to protect us; it’s a survival response built into the limbic brain (or “emotional brain”). Depending on biology and experience, that protection comes from fighting, fleeing, or freezing. Some people also add another “f” — “flocking” or herding together. It is almost impossible to avoid that impulse, we are literally hard-wired to react that way to defend against threat.

So, if I threaten you, I can almost guarantee that you will react by fighting, fleeing, or freezing. You will “be defensive” by attacking back, retreating, evading, or ganging up with others. Of course, depending on your reaction, you can almost guarantee that I will respond with one of those as well.

The “threat response” is part of what Dr. Daniel Goleman called “hijacking the amygdala” and is well defined in Dr. Joseph LeDoux’s research. The amgydala is one of the primary emotional centers in the brain; one core function is reacting to perceived danger. As Dr. Peter Salovey says, this reaction is actually an example of the intelligence of our emotions — a kind of “emotional logic” is followed and decisions are made with little or no cognitive thought; the problem is that few of us have developed this aspect of our intelligence.

So what constitutes “threat” from the amygdala’s point of view? Almost any interaction where someone is trying to take power over someone else will trigger the “survival response.” People try to take power by putting others down, shaming, blaming, embarrassing, judging, discrediting, and dividing.

You can see this dynamic at play on a daily basis in most businesses, schools, and families. I want to be right so I walk in blaming and judging, putting down other people; if I “make them less” it seems to strengthen my position. The other person reacts in survival mode, and the situation escalates. It happens almost every time. Yet, time after time, I see myself and others surprised and disappointed when people are defensive!

Perhaps the surprise comes because most of us believe we are masters of deception. “I can be hurt, frustrated, and impatient,” I think to myself, “but I’ll ‘put that aside’ and ask you calmly what happened.” Guess what? I “calmly” ask you what happened, and you react like I’ve said, “You screwed up and I’m hurt, frustrated, and impatient!”

Think how often something like this happens to you: You try and “put aside your feelings” and act calmly, but people respond as if you’ve attacked them.

One reason for the (mis)understanding comes from another survival mechanism in our limbic brains. Not only do we act to protect when attacked, we are keenly sensitive to potential threats. The limbic brain actually seeks out feelings in others that indicate danger — it’s like a “Danger Radar.” A danger radar looking for potentially hostile emotions, such as anger, frustration, fear, anxiety. Anxiety is a major issue in today’s stressful environment – our brains are constantly alerting us to be prepared for battle.

When you and I are talking, your limbic brain is a danger radar checking me out. Let’s say I am trying to appear calm, but underneath I’m really frustrated. Not with you, I’m just frustrated about something I heard on the phone. So I talk to you, and ask you to work on a project. My words are not unreasonable, but underneath your radar is picking something up. You’re sensing that my words and my feelings don’t match. You might not know exactly what I’m feeling, you simply sense there’s an issue. Just the mismatch itself is enough to create fear in you — after all, I’m hiding something from you, and you’re limbic brain knows that when people are deceiving you, it might be because they want to hurt you.

One way our “Danger Radar” works is by reading facial expressions and tone of voice. In Dr. Albert Mehrabian’s research at UCLA, the team found that only 7% of communication comes in words — the rest is tone, body language, and expression. Dr. Paul Ekman’s work on facial expression reinforces this conclusion; Ekman has found people display a massive amount of emotional information through “micro expression” that flit across all our faces. While most people notice general patterns of these expression, Ekman says, very few can accurately “read” a stream of micro expressions. So, while we can tell in general that someone is vexed and trying to hide it, we probably can’t tell if their displeasure is directed at us!

In any case, in the midst of our interaction, there is a lot of room for the underlying emotions and intentions to influence thinking. You might not know exactly what’s going on with me, but you sense a lack of congruence or authenticity. Depending on your feelings and experience, and our relationship, you’re limbic brain sends you to battle stations, and we can become reactive to one another very quickly.

Given this dynamic, it’s no wonder people spend so much time and energy attacking and defending, being right, making others wrong. “Flowing” like the stone ball fountain is tremendously challenging amidst all this hostility.

To recap, there are several reasons why we tend to “Hit Back First”:

1. People defend themselves (with an F) when they perceive danger.
2. Our amygdala are on the lookout for emotions that could be dangerous, such as anger or fear; a mismatch between words, expression, and feelings is dangerous.
3. Anxiety or stress increases the “danger alert level” so we’re even more sensitive.
4. If there is any “attack” in our approach, we invite — almost guarantee — a defense. Even if we try to hide our frustration and anger.

What can you do about it? In Part Two will explore the metaphor of the fountain and the opportunities we have to flow instead of fight. In the mean time, try these exercises to increase your awareness of Hitting Back First and the Danger Radar.

• Tune into your own “Danger Radar” feelings to learn what triggers your Flight, Fight, or Freeze response. For the next day or two, notice yourself as you either get angry, frustrated, afraid, or defensive. What other feelings do you have at the same time? When do you find yourself wanting to fight? To flee? To freeze (or shut down)? What physical sensations do you have — in your palms, your gut, your neck/back/shoulders?
• Play the “silent movie game” at lunch, on the bus, or in an airport: Watch people and see if you can guess what’s going on inside. The game is more fun when you have someone playing along — each of you observe the same scene, then compare notes on what you think each person was feeling.
• Look at your own micro expressions. Get someone to videotape you doing an activity that causes a variety of feelings (such as talking to your mother-in-law). Then watch the tape pausing every few seconds. If you’re feeling bold, invite your “silent movie game” partner to watch with you; you are likely to be amazed at how much s/he is able to see.
• Create a “stress-o-meter” – it can be as simple as an index card with a scale from 1-10, and a paperclip you slide up and down. When you’re really fatigued, stretched, at the end of your rope, or anxious, put the clip near 10. When you’re cool and collected, put it near 1. A few times each day, check in with yourself, notice your stress level, and mark it on the stress-o-meter. Don’t do anything to “manage” the stress right now — just notice.
• At the same time, just notice how your own level of reactivity changes along with the stress-o-meter. Again, don’t judge it or change it, just notice how your stress-o-meter level affects your Danger Radar. You can make this more fun by putting a bunch of pennies in one pocket or on the corner of your desk. Every time you feel reactive, put one penny in a jar.
• Check your own congruence or authenticity. When you are saying something you don’t truly mean, what are you feeling emotionally and physically? When you are not completely congruent, how does that affect your voice, your posture, your energy level, your neck pain, your ability to sit still, your clenching of muscles (such as your toes)? Once again, the exercise is not about being more congruent — it’s just noticing the subtle signals that go along with hiding (or trying to hide) some parts of your feelings.

I have found that many people — myself included — don’t particularly like to look at the “Hit Back First” parts of ourselves without a great deal of safety. By definition you don’t feel safe when you’re Danger Radar is buzzing, so it’s quite a challenge. You may find yourself avoiding this investigation by being defensive, trivializing, or even hitting yourself back!

If you find yourself avoiding looking at your patterns around reactivity, it may be because you’re also making judgments about what you observe (ie., telling yourself that something is wrong or right, that it should be one way not another, or even that this is an exception not the rule). Notice the judgments (don’t judge yourself for having them), and tell yourself, “Yes, that’s one possible judgement (and there are other reasonable conclusions too).”

While you wait for part two, keep this in mind: While you’re striving for primacy in the fight, you will always have to strive. When you choose to practice your emotional wisdom, to practice living in flow, you will discover a true strength that liberates you from the need show how strong you are.

Continued in Part Two: The Water is Stronger →