@Darwin I forgot about that. I’ve taken tai chi workshops where we put ourselves in various postures and felt how that changed our emotions. The various mudras are postures designed to express common attitudes. Interestingly, if you put someone in a posture, they are likely to report feeling the feeling associated with that posture.
For example, if you have someone bow their head and go down on their knees, and press their palms together in front of their heart, they will typically feel a feeling of surrender. If you raise their arms above their head, lean them back and face them to the sky, they will typically feel as if their hearts are opening up.
If you sit down, and put one finger up and the other hand out, as if offering something on your palm, you will feel didactic—like a teacher.
Once, I went through the Asian museum at the Smithsonian, and took my daughter to each of the Buddhist statues, and had her put herself in the pose of the statue. It was a long time ago, but I think I remember that she kind of got it.
There are “laughing” meditations. If you make yourself laugh, even though it is forced at the beginning, it will not be long before it is no longer forced. I mean, how ridiculous is it to fake laughing? It’s just impossible to keep on faking it without it becoming real.
So, a smile on your face, if kept up, should make you feel whatever it is we feel when we are smiling. Good? Happy?
However, the fact that we can manipulate our emotions by manipulating our bodies is not the same thing as changing an attitude by making ourselves think in the mode of the attitude we wish to assume. I believe that it can work, and I know many people report it as working.
However, I also believe there are people for whom the technique doesn’t work. Perhaps we have too much armor inside to let it work. Perhaps we can not get beyond our cynical thoughts. Or perhaps we are so invested in our image of ourselves as moody or melancholic people that we really don’t want to be positive.
Now, I’ve been so depressed as to want to die, and yet, even so, I find something attractive about being depressed. Odd as it may sound, I learn something important when I am depressed that I could not learn otherwise. It is painful to gain learning in this fashion, and I’m not at all sure if I could explain what I’ve gotten from it, but for some reason, it fits me.
I guess what I’m saying is that perhaps not all of us need to be positive. Perhaps not all of us need to be quite as pain-free as others. Perhaps we even need our pain. It’s a journey, and to try to dishonor it by making it go away feels like a cheat of some kind.
I believe that people who are covering over their pain and problems by acting chipper and cheerful when they really aren’t have lost some of their authenticity. I also think that it keeps them from really dealing with their problems. I believe that if I were to hide my depression by acting happy and thinking positive, that it would come back over and over again, weakening me more each time.
But if I let myself feel my depression, and go into it fully, I will come back out the other side and I will have learned much more about coping with it than I would have attempting to wallpaper it over. This is a risky approach. I could die before I come out the other side. Seventeen percent of people with my condition die of it.
I think there is honor to the feelings you feel. I think they come from some deep place inside you that knows more than you know. I am not saying that I think pain or depression is noble. I’m just saying that it is helpful to honor it by allowing yourself to feel it. People can wallow in pain and self pity. But that’s not honoring pain, either. That’s manipulating it.
Well, you know what they say: shampoo for champagne and real poo for real pain.