When I run the vacuum, the dog hides in the corner of the kitchen. When I fire up the leaf blower, she hides in the shop. And when I turn on the miter saw, she disappears behind the shed.
She associates loud sound with danger, danger triggers a flight response, and instantly she’s gone.
So much of our response to perceived danger is the same.
Fight.
Or Flight.
Or Freeze.
My dog has never had her tail sucked up in the vacuum, been torturously blown in the ear with high-pressure air, or been cut with a saw. There's no real threat nor is there former trauma, which makes me thing her flight response could be trained out of her.
How much of our running could be trained out of us?
How many threats that scare us are a matter of perception?
Behind most personal change are these two questions.
The risk necessary for large-scale change is rarely a risk to our wellbeing but instead a risk to the validations of our perceptions that tell us what’s dangerous.
