Kissing the Frog
The Power of Accepting the Unacceptable
Fairy stories and folk tales deal with archetypal fears and desires which have been part of human life for as long as humans have existed. They can also be a repository for nuggets of wisdom, gleaned from generations of life and experience. The motif of the princess who steels herself to kiss the ugly frog, only for the frog to miraculously turn into a handsome prince, is one such pointer to a deep truth.
Life regularly presents us with ugly frogs, with unpalatable choices, with things going ‘wrong.’ Some of these are trivial; the weather doesn’t play ball for a picnic with friends, we catch a cold, and the headlight on the car goes just when we need to drive somewhere at night. Some difficulties are a little more challenging. As happened to me last week, a return flight from holiday is cancelled at the last minute; the neighbour upstairs takes to playing loud music late at night; there is talk of planned redundancies at work. And that is to say nothing of the truly devastating adverse events: the cancer diagnosis, the house fire, the son who loses his battle with drugs.
No one lives a life free of difficulties. Even the most wealthy, fortunate and well-adjusted have their challenges. Like all of us, they have no ultimate control over when and how those ugly frogs will make their appearance. The area where we always have a choice is in how we respond when things go wrong.
Is it possible to accept, even to embrace the adverse event — to kiss the frog? Is it even desirable? Surely it’s somehow wrong to just accept it when bad things happen. Won’t I become a doormat for other people to walk over, a passive reactor?
Well, it depends. Some situations clearly require action. If I order a new printer and a paddling pool is delivered instead, I would be crazy to ‘accept’ the paddling pool and take no action to sort out the situation. Again, there is nothing good or right about passively suffering unfair or abusive behaviour from other people. But sometimes, there is nothing we can do to remedy a bad situation and acceptance is the only sensible option.
Even when we can and need to take action, there is still a choice to be made. Either to react impulsively from a place of anger, fear or resentment or to respond appropriately from a place of calm. What is it that makes the difference in quality between the two kinds of action? Acceptance, rather than resistance. Having first accepted the adverse event — in other words having aligned ourselves with the reality of this moment — we are in a better place to see clearly what action to take.
And here is where some subtle self-awareness comes in. What precisely do I need to accept at the moment when the bad news breaks? To take the first trivial example, I prepare my picnic, then wake to find that rain has unexpectedly set in for the day. Kissing that particular frog just means inwardly saying yes to the fact that it is raining. There is no need for me to also accept the narrative that my mind immediately throws up — that the day is completely spoilt, that preparing the picnic was a waste of time. Accepting the new situation is not resigning myself in a fatalistic, resentful, passive way. Making the positive choice to drop inner resistance frees up energy to find creative alternatives. Alternatives which may even turn out better than the original plan.
Choosing to accept reality when it presents itself in the guise of a deeply troubling event is a greater challenge, which is why practising on the smaller, everyday disappointments and setbacks is a good idea. The last-minute cancellation of our flight home from Venice was never going to be a matter of life and death, only of some uncertainty, reorganization and potential extra expense. But it still presented me with a choice. Whether to inwardly resist, grumble, blame and worry, or just accept and work with the new situation.
When it comes to serious illness, attack or bereavement, acceptance is both more difficult and at the same time more crucial. Again, it is important to be specific about what we are accepting. I would do well to recognize and accept the symptoms I am experiencing now, together with any fear or grief I am feeling at this moment, but I don’t need to believe the narrative my mind is throwing up about the future. In my mind’s eye, this particular frog takes on gigantic, monstrous proportions. The mental narrative will probably involve projections of danger, future pain, limitation and loneliness, which may or may not bear much relation to what actually transpires. In any event, accepting what has been placed before me now, and only that, frees up space and energy for who knows what transformation to take place. Transformation of the frog, perhaps. Transformation of me, certainly.
In case you were wondering, in the end, we arrived home from Venice only a few hours later than planned, having enjoyed a very pleasant, unexpected train journey through Tuscany to Rome, the cost of which was met in full within a couple of days by the airline. So that frog did turn into a handsome prince.
