“The heart never takes the place of the head: but it can, and should, obey it.” As the cauldron began to brew, the child’s inner parent (her conscience) should have instructed, “How I’m tempted to feel right now is completely out of line.” Lewis articulates in The Abolition of Man, men such as Plato, Aristotle, and Augustine have reasoned that our emotional responses, rather than being fixed dispositions, could (and must) be trained. To repress them is to repress yourself.Īs C.S. In all, the assumption stands: you are your emotions - for better or worse. Some even commend yelling at God when upset. Our unfiltered emotional life can, and some say should, extend to any and all persons - spouses, parents, or strangers included. And short of rolling on the floor, we deem it better to express any and all emotions rather than hold back and become “fake.” No other options exist. We quickly, even reflexively, lend our smiley, sad, crying, surprised, or mad faces via text or comment.
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We live in an emoji world where self-expression and “being the true you” hold highest priority - no one can tell us how to feel. She could murder her mother in her heart (Matthew 5:21–22), but she must remain subdued enough to ensure no witnesses to the crime.
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The girl may feel great ire towards her mother for not purchasing the Hello Kitty backpack, but squirming on the floor to avoid capture would “simply not be tolerated.” The torrent of anger could quietly flow inside the girl, but the dam of outward restraint must hold. The visible end to which feelings lead could (and ought to) be controlled. Others cannot command our feelings because we cannot.īehavior, as the mother knew, was another matter. Before we stop to calmly decide whether to get cross with the man that just cut us off on the freeway, our fist clenches, the bad word escapes, and the adrenaline rushes to our heads. Anger, empathy, fear, joy, sadness, anxiety all happen to us, right? They are involuntary, like eyes that water when looking too long at the sun. While I was not brave enough to interpose myself between the she-bear and her cub to ask, I suspect the mother sought to govern her child’s behavior because that alone could be governed.Īt first glance, this might seem straightforward. Although obvious enough, I began to suspect another underlying assumption: We cannot control our own feelings. The assumption intrigued me: One cannot control another’s feelings. And how you are behaving is completely out of line.”Īlthough the volume made the episode observable from almost anywhere in the store, it was the message that caught my attention. “I’m not telling you how to feel,” retorted the parent. And Mobb Deep’s Prodigy delivers on the threat with his astonishing first verse: “Rock you in your face, stab your brain with your nose bone…” It’s the kind of thing that should get you locked up for life.“You cannot tell me how to feel,” the little girl shouted mid-tantrum. It’s the sound of a looming threat that could exist in any era. II” so timeless is that it’s also somewhat generic. II,” Mobb Deep’s Havoc combined three equally mercurial jazz samples: Herbie Hancock’s “Jessica,” “Daly-Wilson Big Band’s “Dirty Feet” and Quincy Jones “Kitty With The Bent Frame.” The songs are so obscure (at least to hip hop fans), their presence in the track remained somewhat of a mystery for a decade and a half. II.” That slow drum beat and those sirens seemingly ripped out of a horror film. There’s something immediately terrifying about “Shook Ones, Pt.