Pushing Just Enough...
I'm not a very aggressive person. Not any more. Not for a long time.
I used to be aggressive. I used to be downright violent. And mean.
That was all before the fifth grade, though. That's when Karma kicked in and started to set me straight.
Generally, that's a good thing.
But I think I've let myself slide a little too much into passivity. I've bent too far for too long and now I have to work to add a little stiffness back. I'm like a matted patch of reeds or grass, long used to just getting out of the way, biding my time and then slowly crawling back up when conditions change.
I firmly believe in the principles of flexibility and compromise. I think aggressive people cause most of the problems in the world. I know that being aggressive can really put you on the spot.
After all, what if the thing you're pushing... turns out to be wrong?
That's the real trick, isn't it? Being able to really accept being wrong.
When you're passive, you can just accept not speaking out. Or not being heard. There's no real risk taking involved in a passive life. Everything just comes and goes on its own. There's no sense of responsibility. An easy cop out answer exists for everything.
"I don't care" or "That's just the way things go."
To get behind something, to push for something, to aggressively pursue a goal... that requires taking risks. Requires actually having a goal. And being able to stand up to criticism and overcome obstacles.
It takes work. Lots of work.
Especially to maintain the balance. And not become blinded by Ego. Or hopes masquerading as knowledge.
I need to become more aggressive.
I need to latch on to a goal or two, a cause or two. To spend time and expend energy fighting for something.
And that's going to cause problems. Because there's always a trade off. Passive living is easy. No one gets hurt (except yourself) and everyone ends up happy (except you--you just end up OK). No one is ever really wrong (because there's no real opinion or vested interest at stake).
I am aggressive in some circumstances.
I'm an aggressive helper. Sticking my nose where it doesn't belong sometimes and trying to make people's lives go smoother. They don't always appreciate that. Nor do other people who are helping them when I butt in.
That bit of aggressiveness was out of balance. (But nowhere near far enough out to serve as a counterweight to the passive boulder that's keeping me from moving forward.)
I've reigned that in.
Now I need to spur the other side to action in a more general sense. (While always keeping one eye on that Golden Mean between the extremes.)
Today, after work, on the way to the metro, it was bright, and warm, and slightly breezy. I passed someone on the street. She reminded me of my friend Jen from New Paltz. The same dark hair and slightly swarthy complexion. We both wore dark sunglasses, so there wasn't much of an expression for either of us to read. She had a devilish, yet happy smile going. A smile I could happily spend hours looking at. Because of the conversation I was involved in, I was smiling, too. When we passed, we both smiled more... each perhaps thinking the same thing: "Are they smiling at me?"
If I were in balance and fearless and aggressive, I would have asked out loud.
I used to be aggressive. I used to be downright violent. And mean.
That was all before the fifth grade, though. That's when Karma kicked in and started to set me straight.
Generally, that's a good thing.
But I think I've let myself slide a little too much into passivity. I've bent too far for too long and now I have to work to add a little stiffness back. I'm like a matted patch of reeds or grass, long used to just getting out of the way, biding my time and then slowly crawling back up when conditions change.
I firmly believe in the principles of flexibility and compromise. I think aggressive people cause most of the problems in the world. I know that being aggressive can really put you on the spot.
After all, what if the thing you're pushing... turns out to be wrong?
That's the real trick, isn't it? Being able to really accept being wrong.
When you're passive, you can just accept not speaking out. Or not being heard. There's no real risk taking involved in a passive life. Everything just comes and goes on its own. There's no sense of responsibility. An easy cop out answer exists for everything.
"I don't care" or "That's just the way things go."
To get behind something, to push for something, to aggressively pursue a goal... that requires taking risks. Requires actually having a goal. And being able to stand up to criticism and overcome obstacles.
It takes work. Lots of work.
Especially to maintain the balance. And not become blinded by Ego. Or hopes masquerading as knowledge.
I need to become more aggressive.
I need to latch on to a goal or two, a cause or two. To spend time and expend energy fighting for something.
And that's going to cause problems. Because there's always a trade off. Passive living is easy. No one gets hurt (except yourself) and everyone ends up happy (except you--you just end up OK). No one is ever really wrong (because there's no real opinion or vested interest at stake).
I am aggressive in some circumstances.
I'm an aggressive helper. Sticking my nose where it doesn't belong sometimes and trying to make people's lives go smoother. They don't always appreciate that. Nor do other people who are helping them when I butt in.
That bit of aggressiveness was out of balance. (But nowhere near far enough out to serve as a counterweight to the passive boulder that's keeping me from moving forward.)
I've reigned that in.
Now I need to spur the other side to action in a more general sense. (While always keeping one eye on that Golden Mean between the extremes.)
Today, after work, on the way to the metro, it was bright, and warm, and slightly breezy. I passed someone on the street. She reminded me of my friend Jen from New Paltz. The same dark hair and slightly swarthy complexion. We both wore dark sunglasses, so there wasn't much of an expression for either of us to read. She had a devilish, yet happy smile going. A smile I could happily spend hours looking at. Because of the conversation I was involved in, I was smiling, too. When we passed, we both smiled more... each perhaps thinking the same thing: "Are they smiling at me?"
If I were in balance and fearless and aggressive, I would have asked out loud.