PEOPLE LIKE YOU CAUSE WARS!

For as long as I can remember, I've struggled with rousing myself to action. It's as if there's a lulling ocean coming up to meet and claim me, where everything is suspended, blank, out of time. A place where nothing is required of me, where I'm relieved of responsibility. I fall into it easily and sometimes I think it's my natural state, the automatic default setting that greets me when my eyes open in the morning and then I must work to shift.
     But is that an accurate description? Like so much else I say about myself, I wonder just how accurate that is. In this case, because I also know the part of myself that swings into action, that's motivated by ambition and competitiveness, that likes to set up targets and knock them down. So, maybe like everything else about myself and the world, it's a mixed bag. Of course it is - I know as clearly and deeply as I know anything, that everything depends on perspective, and perspective is changing all the time.
     Every view and opinion, all the concepts and ideas generated by my always self-conscious ego - each may be interesting but has nothing to do with The Truth. There are some abstract ideals that have the force of Truth for me - ie, Kindness is a virtue, a good that is always "true." But even here, when it comes to specific instances in my life, that Truth gets muddied by my perspective - have I been kind enough, do I need to be kind at all, does that person merit my kindness - in short, my relentless need to evaluate, to have an opinion, creates a sometime abyss between what I mean by Kindness and kindness in my daily life. 
     My subconscious, in writing here, has led me back to something that happened in the library a few weeks ago. I was in line behind an Asian woman who spoke very little English. She had a website address but had no idea how to use a computer.  The young man behind the counter explained that he couldn't leave the desk to help her. When it turned out she didn't have a library card but could get a temporary one to use the computer, it was obvious it was all beyond her and she gave up.
     Throughout this exchange, I stood behind her, thinking, I should help her. I have the time. I should help her.  But I didn't. When she geve up and walked away, I moved to the desk and watched as the young man checked out my audio tapes. Then, in a rush, I realized how crazy it was that I hadn't offered to help and went through the library looking for her. She had gone...this bothered me for days. Why hadn't I helped her? What held me back? Looking at it now, as I recount the incident in words, I'm at a loss to explain the disconnect between "I should help her" and my inaction.  
     This single incident isn't a description of the whole of me, proof of my moral failure. It doesn't mean that when faced with the next situation, large or small, I will fail my ideal. But it is an example of my lack of perfection and a motive to my desire to do better. As I say, I am always a mixed bag.  
     It's humility that helps me not collapse in shame at my "failure" to help, which I could easily do given how hard I often am on myself. But with humility I recognize my always imperfect humanity and that recognition grants me a release, an acceptance in which to view this incident, any incident, without blame. I can take responsibility, not at all the same thing as blame, and most importantly,  I can vow to do better.
     While I've been writing this, I've been thinking about the great moral challenges history brings. Of course I have - there is a direct line between that one small incident in the library and the great choices life and history present - would I name names in front of the Committee, would I turn in the Jews, would I betray a friend for my own gain? Would I betray myself and my beliefs in order to live? 
     There is a scene in Falconer by John Cheever which I often think about. He's on a supermarket express line for 10 items or less. Someone with more items cuts in and Falconer gets angry. He yells, "People like you cause wars!" Yes, arrogance, thoughtlessness, obliviousness, self-interest can ripple out until they're as large as the universe and consume everything in their wake.

STRAWBERRIES

I read somewhere that strawberries are the only fruit with its seeds on the outside. Of course, I thought, those little specks on the outside - seeds! And inside - none. I've eaten strawberries all my life, studied them while I search for the one in the plastic tub I think will be the most ripe, the sweetest. But I had the macro view, focused on strawberries as food, which one will delight me the most. The micro view would have led me to notice that the specks are seeds; I would have seen the strawberry qua strawberry and I would have marveled that such a thing, a delicious thing, exists.
     It's the same with people. As I go through the day, I'm moving so quickly I don't actually see people; I get an impression of them, sometimes a fairly detailed one. And I'm judging - this one looks intelligent, that one has terrible shoes (and therefore isn't my sort), she looks like someone I'd like to know better. First impressions are useful but I so rarely pay attention to them. When a long relationship ends, I often think I should have seen what would cause the problems - it was all there in the very beginning - it registered somewhere in my being but I didn't pay attention to it.
     We really see more than a surface view of the other. Even when we fall in love and want to know everything about the other, it isn't at all clear that we aren't seeing a projection of ourselves. This is true with everything we think and feel - it's all filtered by our consciousness. I mean something else - the simple fact of recognizing the humanity in the other, in many others. Then it doesn't matter if someone is wearing shoes I don't like or spouts political opinions that make me want to punch him. There's something beyond that, and if I look for it, I'll find a person with whom I probably have more in common than not. Most of us share the important things - how easy it is to become full of fear, how much we want to our lives to feel stable and secure, how much we need love. That's in every single person passing me by. It's mostly impossible to break through to a mutual recognition of our humanity, but I'll have a very different day if I keep it in mind. I'll be more patient with the woman on the market line who waits until everything is rung up before she goes digging in her vast purse for her wallet. (This is only one of the many grievances I can accumulate in a day.) I won't judge every third person who passes by. I'll take the time to ask questions and actually listen to the answers. In a way, I'm talking about moving through the day with no expectations or demands, open and receiving rather than closed and trying to impose my will.  Of course, half the time I have my eyes closed. Then it's humanity, shumanity. I'm a very busy person - get out of my way.
     This is a very long way from strawberries. But now that I think of it, I'm getting to eat a bowl of berries and non-fat cottage cheese, which I have to confess is quickly becoming my drug of choice.