You’re walking down a busy shopping street when you suddenly hear panicked screams. Looking around, you see a crowd fleeing from what appears to be a velociraptor—yes, a dinosaur. It’s snarling and darting its head around, almost as if it’s herding the terrified people. You can’t believe what you’re seeing.
Instinctively, you bolt towards the nearest shop, remembering that velociraptors can’t open doors. Once inside, you feel safer, watching the chaos through the shop window. But something strange catches your eye: the velociraptor isn’t actually harming anyone. Hold on, velociraptors have been extinct for millions of years. This has to be some kind of stunt or joke.
Despite your fear, you step back onto the street. As you carefully approach the dinosaur, you notice it looks incredibly real, not a mechanical replica. Your heart races as you move closer, reaching out to touch it. But instead of feeling scaly skin, your hand passes right through it. It’s a hologram! There was never any real danger.
Let’s switch gears for a moment.
Over the years, I’ve explored various approaches to handling feelings, or “vedanas” in Buddhism. Vedanas are the internal sensations we experience, whether pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral, in response to things we perceive or think about. They’re often felt around the solar plexus or heart and are automatic responses—beyond our conscious control. They include feelings like frustration, joy, anxiety, and disgust.
Initially, I would react impulsively to these sensations. For example, if someone acted greedily, I’d feel disgust and react with anger and critical thoughts. Eventually, I learned to recognize these feelings and create a pause, allowing me to respond more thoughtfully with patience or kindness instead of anger. When we’re mindful of these feelings, it opens up the possibility for more constructive reactions.
This practice evolved into acknowledging these sensations as forms of suffering, to which I responded with self-compassion. This approach fundamentally changed my life, reducing my suffering and making it easier to show compassion to others.
Recently, I discovered another perspective—seeing feelings as illusions. For instance, when anxiety arises, I now turn toward it with compassion rather than fear. Examining it closely, I see it as a collection of sensations with no substance. The more I scrutinize it, the less real it becomes, transforming into a source of beauty and wonder.
Think about the holographic velociraptor. It looks real and scary, but there’s nothing there. That’s what examining anxiety is like for me now. I still experience moments of fear and anxiety, just as you’d jump if a velociraptor suddenly appeared, even if you knew it wasn’t real. But by turning toward these fears and examining them, you realize they are illusions.
When I wake up at 2 AM, panicked about potential future problems, the fear feels real at first. But after the initial panic, I remind myself that the anxiety is just an illusion. I encourage you to face your fears and examine them closely. Notice the sensations, how they change moment by moment. Over time, you’ll see that anxiety is like a holographic projection.
This realization might take time to sink in, just as it did for me. My understanding of vedanas evolved gradually. It could take years, but this insight has the potential to speed up your process. Even if it doesn’t make sense right now, one day it might click, and you’ll recognize your fears for what they are—illusions.