Forks and Humans
Deep breaths, happy thoughts. It's been a kind of stressful day. Hopefully a bit of jazz and some library writing will help level me out a bit.
When it comes to life's problems that pop up, I like to view them like a shark's teeth. When one is gone, another rolls neatly forward to take its place. It's kind of menacing, but mesmerizing at the same time. This is normally a Buddhist kind of consolation to make one feel better, but it does wear on one every now and then. It feels like a billion things are going on right now and I can't wait until things get settled into a nice routine for the semester.
*shrugs* That's the way of things.
It's a Friday. I'm sitting on the mat for the first time with Clark sensei. Somehow, I thought he'd be taller, better looking. As we're stretching, he looks at me and asks, "If I stuck a fork in my thigh, would it hurt you?"
Thinking he was asking a question related to self defense and how people "throw themselves" in Aikido, I quickly and confidently answered, "No."
"It should."
I blinked. And as the gravity of the idea descended upon me, I realized that I'd just gotten chucked, even if my feet never left the ground. He wasn't talking about Aikido waza. He was talking about how humans are connected, and how they live best when they lift each other up. (On some level, I think he was talking about Aikido waza... but that's for another time.)
I recently observed an acquaintance host a little improptu "hate party". In the middle of a conversation, she began a long monolog about how stupid and ineffectual her ex-boyfriend was. She kept railing on him, almost seeming to ooze venom. (I should mention that he was not in attendance during this rousing speech.)
I couldn't help but think of that proverbial fork.
In the past, I might have joined her, coming up with my own witticisms to cut down so-and-so. I've certainly been an attendee at these improptu hate parties on more than one occasion. I used to think I was helping people get over their heartbreak. It just seems so comfortable; you reinforce someone's false way of coping with their insecurities and you don't even risk anything in the process. What are they going to do? Snap at you for helping perpetuate the illusions they're trying to inflict upon themselves?
Of course, joining a hate party lessens you, as well. If the monologer suffers from insecurity because of past bad experiences, you suffer from just as much because you're scared of what will happen if you don't join the party. You are not-so-silently helping the venom-bearer continue to harm themselves.
"Damn forks," I muttered. She stopped and looked up at me.
"What?"
"Long story. Look, this ain't helping anyone. If this guy was really that much of an ass, why are we wasting so much time talking about him? Besides, he can't have been all bad... I mean, you did spend about a year touching his wing-wong. Well, maybe not the whole time continuously, but you get my point. He had to have had some good points other than that one, um, salient feature. That won't keep someone engrossed for an entire g.d. year."
She shot me an irritated look. I smiled. I get the sneaking suspicion she'll forgive me for cutting her off. It's been my experience that irritation most commonly rises up when someone hits close to home.
The monologers are fork wielders, to use Clark sensei's metaphor. They're hurting themselves, just the same as if they were jabbing themselves in the thigh with a nice, sharp salad fork. It should hurt us, too, to see it happen. We should be moved by compassion to stop it, or at the very least, keep from being a receptive audience.
Too often, I drop the ball. I help the badness perpetuate itself.
But sometimes, rarely, I catch myself and relieve people of their fork.
That's a good feeling.
Atogaki: This isn't to say all maligning talk about a former S.O. is bad. There is real merit to getting things off your chest. But there's a fine line between confession and wallowing.
- Ken
When it comes to life's problems that pop up, I like to view them like a shark's teeth. When one is gone, another rolls neatly forward to take its place. It's kind of menacing, but mesmerizing at the same time. This is normally a Buddhist kind of consolation to make one feel better, but it does wear on one every now and then. It feels like a billion things are going on right now and I can't wait until things get settled into a nice routine for the semester.
*shrugs* That's the way of things.
It's a Friday. I'm sitting on the mat for the first time with Clark sensei. Somehow, I thought he'd be taller, better looking. As we're stretching, he looks at me and asks, "If I stuck a fork in my thigh, would it hurt you?"
Thinking he was asking a question related to self defense and how people "throw themselves" in Aikido, I quickly and confidently answered, "No."
"It should."
I blinked. And as the gravity of the idea descended upon me, I realized that I'd just gotten chucked, even if my feet never left the ground. He wasn't talking about Aikido waza. He was talking about how humans are connected, and how they live best when they lift each other up. (On some level, I think he was talking about Aikido waza... but that's for another time.)
I recently observed an acquaintance host a little improptu "hate party". In the middle of a conversation, she began a long monolog about how stupid and ineffectual her ex-boyfriend was. She kept railing on him, almost seeming to ooze venom. (I should mention that he was not in attendance during this rousing speech.)
I couldn't help but think of that proverbial fork.
In the past, I might have joined her, coming up with my own witticisms to cut down so-and-so. I've certainly been an attendee at these improptu hate parties on more than one occasion. I used to think I was helping people get over their heartbreak. It just seems so comfortable; you reinforce someone's false way of coping with their insecurities and you don't even risk anything in the process. What are they going to do? Snap at you for helping perpetuate the illusions they're trying to inflict upon themselves?
Of course, joining a hate party lessens you, as well. If the monologer suffers from insecurity because of past bad experiences, you suffer from just as much because you're scared of what will happen if you don't join the party. You are not-so-silently helping the venom-bearer continue to harm themselves.
"Damn forks," I muttered. She stopped and looked up at me.
"What?"
"Long story. Look, this ain't helping anyone. If this guy was really that much of an ass, why are we wasting so much time talking about him? Besides, he can't have been all bad... I mean, you did spend about a year touching his wing-wong. Well, maybe not the whole time continuously, but you get my point. He had to have had some good points other than that one, um, salient feature. That won't keep someone engrossed for an entire g.d. year."
She shot me an irritated look. I smiled. I get the sneaking suspicion she'll forgive me for cutting her off. It's been my experience that irritation most commonly rises up when someone hits close to home.
The monologers are fork wielders, to use Clark sensei's metaphor. They're hurting themselves, just the same as if they were jabbing themselves in the thigh with a nice, sharp salad fork. It should hurt us, too, to see it happen. We should be moved by compassion to stop it, or at the very least, keep from being a receptive audience.
Too often, I drop the ball. I help the badness perpetuate itself.
But sometimes, rarely, I catch myself and relieve people of their fork.
That's a good feeling.
Atogaki: This isn't to say all maligning talk about a former S.O. is bad. There is real merit to getting things off your chest. But there's a fine line between confession and wallowing.
- Ken