I’ve noticed that gravity, even though it’s formless, still moves things—physical objects—toward its source. The same goes for magnetic force; it’s formless too, yet it pulls or pushes specific things, like certain metals, depending on the source. While it seems like these forces come from physical objects—a heavy mass for gravity, a magnet for magnetic force—they themselves don’t have form. Also, I find it fascinating that even something like electricity running through a coil can create a magnetic force. It makes me think about how these forces behave.
For me, the key ideas are:
- Forces are formless.
- They seem tied to a source.
- They influence specific things by pulling or pushing them.
I’ve noticed that when something—whether it’s an object or a feeling—is exposed to a force for a long time, it can build up energy and keep going, even when the original force is gone. This is momentum. For example, if you push something with a motor, it keeps moving for a while even after the motor stops. Eventually, other forces will slow it down and stop it, but it takes time.
I think human forces, like emotions—anger, sadness, love, lust, frustration, joy—work in a similar way. They’re usually tied to a source, which can change depending on what’s going on in our lives. These emotions can affect both our thoughts and our physical sensations. When we’re caught up in them for a long time, they gain momentum (what some might call karma) and keep affecting us. But I’m learning that if I just let them be and watch as they naturally lose steam, they eventually fade away.
I think of these emotional forces like a torchlight in space: it’s harmless (or useless) unless it shines on something. This kind of letting the forces be, or “equanimity” is something I’m working on. It’s a practice of letting these forces be without feeding them. Emotional forces are kind of like that; they don’t have power unless they interact with our thoughts or memories. And just like a torch’s battery eventually runs out, I’ve noticed that emotions do the same. But while they’re there, I’m trying not to feed them, which only builds more momentum (or karma) and makes it harder to let go.
Sometimes, I catch myself dwelling (or ruminating) on certain thoughts or memories, and it’s like generating an emotional force out of nowhere. It’s just like how electricity in a coil creates a magnetic field. And I’ve realized that this kind of rumination can be just as powerful as something triggered by an actual event. Thoughts of past experiences can stir up emotions like anger, depression, happiness, or lust, making them feel even stronger.
The real trouble starts when I start identifying with these forces or the thoughts and memories I’m caught up in. But I’m learning to notice that they’re not really “me” or “mine,” and they don’t define who I am. Like everything else in the universe, they come and go. The cycle of birth, growth, death, and rebirth applies to emotions too. I’ve noticed that anger, for example, arises, sticks around for a bit, and then disappears. But when I latch onto it and make it personal, it tends to come back in some other form. It seems like identifying with it is what gives it that push and pull, what some might call craving or aversion. Or perhaps, the push-and-pull is the process of identification itself.
Take for instance lust: It starts by attaching itself to recent/immediate sensations or memories of sex—whether from real life, movies, or just imagination. As that force grows, so does the desire to act on it. If it doesn’t happen, frustration builds, and sometimes that turns into anger over little things. Thoughts of lack can start to take over, leading to sadness or a sense of being a victim. And then, if I’m not careful, I might start comparing myself to others on social media, which just makes the force of lust stronger. Sometimes anxiety kicks in, worried about doing something wrong, and guilt shows up even if I haven’t done anything. It’s a cycle that can leave me feeling stuck and helpless.
But when I recognize the force of lust with equanimity, the whole cycle can stop. I remind myself that lust isn’t “me” or “mine,” and it doesn’t define who I am. When I see it that way, it’s easier to let the force arise, hang around for a bit, and then pass away. It’s just a force, like clouds in the sky—they come and go. There’s no need to make it personal, to fuel it with thoughts, and create momentum that makes it harder to let go. It’s not about avoiding sex; it’s about not obsessing over it. A healthy sex life is important, but over-focusing on it isn’t helpful.
I’ve come to see that human forces—emotions—aren’t bad in themselves; they just exist, like everything else in the universe. They don’t exist for me, they’re not mine, and they don’t define who I am. But I can see how the world around us often gets caught up in these forces, giving them more power by identifying with them, which makes them stick around longer.
For me, it’s about noticing these forces and allowing them to pass. They’re harmless if I don’t latch onto them. And I like to think that if more of us can do this, maybe these forces will lose their grip on the world, or at least become more manageable.
In my own practice, I’ve found that expanding my ability to let these forces pass begins with cultivating mindfulness—simply noticing and recognizing them when they arise. Then, I practice a release-relax response, softening the physical grip around the force. Maintaining equanimity helps me stay unshaken by their presence. And finally, I focus on generating love. I’ve noticed that love is the one force capable of neutralizing all others. The more I cultivate it, the more space I create for these forces to pass through without causing harm.
In my experience, TWIM Meditation has been a reliable way to build the mindfulness-release-relax-love cycle. It does take time for the practice to gain momentum and become a default way of living, and I am certainly far from that being my default way of living. But I’ve noticed that even a small effort makes a difference. I keep having moments of inconsistency while the practice is still stabilizing, and I remind myself not to be discouraged or embarrassed by that. I make an effort to keep practicing and living from it, even if it takes a while to reach a steady state. My environment might judge me during this transition, but I’ve found that as consistency grows, it benefits not only me but also those around me. So, I keep practicing – almost every single day.