For almost two years, I’ve had the privilege of being part of a group of thoughtful, insightful students at ACIM Gather. Most are quietly brilliant, sharing ideas without fanfare. Among them is Dov Fishman, who often repeats a simple phrase that has stayed with me: “Be grateful for your triggers.”
At first glance, that sounds almost absurd. Grateful for the very things that upset me? The comments, the headlines, the videos, the conversations that get under my skin? Yet the longer I sit with it, the more I see the truth behind it.
A trigger is not the problem. It is the signal.
When something stirs me, tightens my chest, or pulls me into judgment, it is pointing directly to something unresolved within me. Not out there. In here. It is showing me, with perfect clarity, where I still have work to do. Where I am still choosing fear over peace, reaction over understanding.
And there are plenty of opportunities.
A passing comment. A political rant. A YouTube clip that makes my blood pressure rise before I’ve even finished watching it. Sometimes I can catch it early and let it pass. Sometimes I cannot. Sometimes I dive right in, fully justified, ready to defend my position as if my peace depends on it.
But it never does.
This world is full of what we call triggers, but they are really invitations. Each one offers the same quiet question: Would you like to see this differently?
Sometimes I answer yes right away. Sometimes it takes time. And sometimes I refuse altogether, holding on to my irritation as if it serves me. When I do that, the lesson doesn’t go away. It simply returns, dressed in a different form, asking again for my attention.
That repetition is not punishment. It is patience.
The same lesson appears again and again until something finally clicks. Until I pause long enough to recognize that what I am reacting to is not the real issue. The discomfort is coming from my interpretation, my belief, my need to be right or to be justified.
And in that moment, I am given another chance to choose.
I’ve come to realize that even my own writing can serve as a trigger. Some people read my essays and feel seen, understood, even relieved. Others feel irritated, challenged, or dismissed. I used to wonder which reaction was the “correct” one.
Now I see that both are valid. Both are useful.
If something I write brings peace, it has done its job. If it brings discomfort, it has also done its job. Because that discomfort is simply another opportunity to look within and ask, Why does this bother me? What am I defending? What am I afraid of losing?
In that sense, every trigger is a call for love. Not sentimental love, but the kind that looks honestly, without defense, and chooses again.
I am not always quick to answer that call. But I am learning to recognize it.
And when I do, even briefly, the trigger loses its power. What once felt like an attack becomes a mirror. What once demanded a reaction becomes an opportunity for peace.
So yes, I am beginning to understand what Dov meant.
Be grateful for your triggers. They are showing you exactly where freedom is waiting.
I’m getting there.
You might try it too.