The highest emotion
Equanimity in practice
A couple months ago I wrote about the problem with happiness. There’s nothing wrong with being happy when it happens, of course, but the trouble is that we too often set happiness as our goal, our definition of success.
As a fleeting emotion, happiness is as unstable as it is unsustainable. It’s more reasonable to look for and cultivate joy along the journey than to expect we’ll ever arrive at such a destination.
A nobler, more worthwhile aspiration—never more essential or more challenging than it is today—is the quality of equanimity.
Equanimity is a state of inner stability, peace and balance amid the forces of chaos, (mis)fortune and change. Equanimity knows that these forces are inevitable: We will win and we will lose, we will be praised and we will be blamed, we will experience pleasure and also pain.
Equanimity allows us to stand steady and see clearly in the middle of it all.
It’s useful to consider what equanimity is not. It is the opposite of excited, emotional reactivity. But it also stands up against indifference. Equanimity is only indifferent to the grasping, clinging, controlling needs our ego has for power, position and esteem. But when it comes to our greater sense of justice and compassion for others, equanimity cares deeply and wisely.
Which is why equanimity is not an end in itself. Unlike indifference or apathy, it doesn’t yield inaction. On the contrary, equanimity serves a greater purpose. It gives us the space and the stability we need to choose wise action.
Now, you may be thinking this sounds good in theory, but I live in the real world. And the real world values passionate conviction and exertion of control.
So let me ask you this: Who suffers when I tie my happiness to a particular outcome, and things don’t go my way? Do my forceful opinions really win me new allies, or do they cut me off from authentic connections and deeper learning? What in this life can I ever truly control?
Imagine you are trying to hold onto a handful of sand. If you clench your fist around it, the grains of sand will pour through your fingers. But if you hold it cupped in your open palm, it will be more secure. This is how equanimity allows us to hold all of our life experiences—joy, fear, discomfort, loss—with a sense of ease and spaciousness.
But it doesn’t just happen. Equanimity takes intention, perspective and practice.
Intention
We have to sincerely want to be equanimous in the first place. If we continue to prize our personal opinions and desired outcomes over openness, we won’t get far.
This intention is no small thing, especially in a highly polarized context where our major institutions (media, politics, tech/social media, business) are designed to reward strong and even combative positions. It’s not easy to opt for equanimity when the rest of the world is stomping and screaming, and we’re certain to run up against our own defensiveness and self-doubt. So we start by setting a conscious intention of equanimity that we can return to and rely on when the storm is brewing around us.
Ask yourself:
Why is it in my best interest to practice equanimity?
How does equanimity prepare me to act more skillfully?
Who is my role model of equanimity? In what ways do I aspire to be like them?
Perspective
Equanimity is sometimes compared to a grandmother’s love. The grandmother loves her grandchildren unconditionally, but with a bit more distance than the parent has. She is less likely to react emotionally to a misbehaving child, for example, by virtue of her role as well as her own hard-earned experience and perspective.
So as we practice equanimity, we can look for ways to get that kind of perspective: finding the spaciousness that comes from seeing the bigger picture.
Ask yourself:
What opinion or position am I inclined to take? Is it verifiably true?
What might I be missing? What do I still have to learn here?
What if the opposite of my opinion were also true?
Practice
What we practice grows. If we practice anger, we will become more angry. If we practice criticism, we will become more critical. If we practice equanimity, we will become more open, balanced and stable.
Consider:
Starting a mindfulness meditation practice. Mindfulness allows us to focus our attention, increase our self-awareness and reduce our reactivity. All of these skills build our capacity for equanimity.
Going easy on yourself. Rewiring your brain’s reactive patterns requires time and effort, and is not helped by you beating yourself up for “slipping” and losing control. It’s going to happen. Take a deep breath, get some perspective and try again.
Choosing your influences carefully. Take a look at your friends and family members: Which ones are steady and stabilizing? Which ones spin you out and create drama? Then look at your social media platforms, the people you follow, the media you consume, and perhaps even the substances you consume. Some will be helpful, some will be harmful. You get to decide what you give power to.
Noticing and celebrating progress. Progress doesn’t mean we stop experiencing difficulty or stress. Sorry, that’s just life. But with practice, you will begin to experience an ever-increasing sense of spacious awareness. As I tell the leaders I coach, it will sneak up on you. Then one day you’ll find yourself in the middle of a challenging situation but without the agitated reactivity you’re used to. Suddenly, you have space. You have choices. And more good news: As you bring awareness to these moments, they’ll multiply.
Far from the mere absence of preference or feeling, equanimity asks a lot of us. But it offers us even more.
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