Vachon Imagined

When my son has an emotional outburst, I often remind him to notice what he is putting into the room. Returning the emotion into his own body helps him begin to see it clearly, to understand it, and to hold it rather than be controlled by it. Over time, this becomes grounding. No one else can easily manipulate what a person has learned to see within themselves. Practiced early, this becomes a foundation for inner stability that carries into adulthood.

I am not responsible for his emotion. It is not mine to carry, and I do not take it on as my own. It belongs to him, and it is something he must learn to meet through awareness, humility, and the gradual development of self-governance within his own consciousness.

Depending on his state, I bring it back to something very simple: return to self, see it, release it. And sometimes, nothing more than a clear “no” is needed. No explanation, no depth—just “no.”

Over time, I’ve come to see that when people absorb the emotions of others, they are not only reacting to what is in front of them. They are responding to what has already been activated within their own inner field of awareness.

What we call consciousness is the space in which perception arises and experience becomes knowable. Within it, we are given the capacity to witness what arises in us, rather than being entirely governed by it.

This is where responsibility begins—not as moral pressure, but as clarity of perception. What we express does not remain isolated. It enters shared space and is received through the awareness of others, shaped by their own internal state.

When we are not aware of this, we often expect others to tolerate, manage, or absorb what we have not yet fully seen in ourselves. But people are not here to carry one another’s unresolved emotional states. They are here to meet each other clearly—or not at all.

When awareness is present, something shifts. The need to project softens. The need to control how one is received begins to fall away. In that clarity, what remains is honesty, gentleness, and the possibility of a simple, grounded response—sometimes nothing more than a clear “no.”