Two minute devolvement
I’m having a hard time putting words onto the page this morning. It’s not for lack of things to say but it’s the number of things. I’m thinking of the monotony of the day, going through the motions. I’m thinking of C’s and my plans to go line dancing tonight, which makes me think of the last time I line danced. I was twenty-two, working at a dude ranch just outside of Gunnison, Colorado. There were fifteen or so of us; a sprinkling of real-life wranglers and the rest of us semi-urban kids who didn’t have a clue between a stirrup or horn, let alone how to act around them. That summer was a formative art of my fledgling adulthood.
The line dancing was a weekly thing and we were expected to be there, to dance with the guest and pretend to be real cowboys and cowgirls. Back then, I remember how silly it all was, mostly because—
Argh, C just woke up and asked to sit in the living room with me. Writing with someone else in the room has always been distracting. It alters my thinking, shifts—
And now I’ve had to get up, move back into my office to finish writing this morning. The noise and presence too much for me. My frustration runs high and I feel that low anger boil in my veins.
Why? Why the anger? It’s like a brick wall in my brain, stopping all rational thought. The anger rolls around my head like spilled tacks, sticking into any thought that occurs, coloring them, altering them. Sam Harris in his Waking Up app talks of anger being an emotion one can’t perpetuate without actually focusing on the cause of the anger. So, I have to let it go, I have to release it, empty out the self-righteous indignation that my morning space and calm has been broken by the person I love.
The question that arises in times like these is how much anger is justified? Is any anger justified? Does the anger come from what I expected this morning is not what came to be? Is it because of the carelessness with which C held my sacred morning? With how clueless the intrusion was? Or is it because of my frustration with myself for not staying put, dealing with the noise and discomfort? How accommodating is too accommodating, when my wants bash up against C’s wants? I don’t know if I’m the type of person that bends the world to my will or if I’m the type of person that bends when the world demands it of me. It’s likely a little bit of both.
Sartre said that we are who we are by the decisions we make. The world we see is a direct consequence of how and what we have chosen. So, who am I? What kind of person do I want to be? Sartre also said that hell is other people and it would be easy to agree with him this morning. I tend to disagree with Sartre in this aspect. The problem I have is that I am acutely aware of other people, my environment. I weigh my own actions and decisions in relation to other people. When it comes to C, this is even more my truth. I guess Sartre, were he here in my office, would tell me I’m living in bad faith, allowing others to have a say in my decisions. I’d tell him that’s the only way to live. One can’t go through the world without thinking about the decisions I make have consequences for other people. Is this wrong? Should I only focus on my needs? Should other people be an afterthought?
Again, the fear that I am not seeing things clearly, the fear that my interpretation of the world is incorrect, not truthful.
My anger turns to flagellation turns to self-doubt. All this in the span of two minutes.