Mixed into the holiday season chaos of consumerism and event-coordination is an oddly persistent, thin, shimmering warble of Good Will. I felt it somewhere beneath the silky choruses of copious Christmas songs, hidden within the standard-holiday-palate advertisements on busses and trains and buildings, and overtly glowing out from the influx of cards materializing in our mailbox. There has been plenty of typical capitalism-gone-wild mania, sure, but there is also this notion that now, during the darkest days of the year, we should come together as human beings and support each other, take the time to tip your hat and smile, recognize that we’re all on the same team.
So every year I wrestle with this nagging notion that I should make some effort to be a better person. And it seems so simple and innocent. Stop judging people. Give them the benefit of the doubt. Put forth the effort of kindness. It’s a great plan, a wonderful theory. And, for me, it always fails.
I am a grump. I believe that people will always look out for their best interests, often at the cost of just about everyone else, so it requires effort for people to be anything other than selfish children. But plenty of folks really do put in that effort, and, for some of them, kindness seems to be a genuine part of their self-interests. So how do I tap into that? How do I stop assuming that everyone is an idiot?
Drugs help. Coffee. Aspirin. Sugar. Anything to remove the edge. Insult and judgment is a sparkly, low-hanging fruit. As with anything suspiciously “too easy,” throwing an insult to someone, using that person as an illustration of some greater absurdity, is ultimately a quick burn-through of empty calories. It feels great to spew out the venom, and might even make you feel witty for all of three seconds, but then it’s vapor, and then it’s nothing. So you have to keep going, keep spewing, all the while internally recognizing that you are just as absurd, and your cleverness is temporary and insubstantial. Cutting people down, laying judgment, just makes me feel worse about myself.
And that makes me lay into people even more. At the root, judgment is an expression of self-doubt. You require juxtaposition simply to solidify your own persona. It’s like making Jello without putting it into the refrigerator. You require this other thing, the mold, constantly. Without the leverage of this other person’s faults, your own definition becomes unmade and just drips out over the counter. So you keep using other people to make yourself feel defined. You do this to feel the intimation of definition, to trick yourself into believing that it enough. More vapor.
So my simple effort of “kindness” requires something quite different. I have to change the way I feel about myself. If I don’t need to leverage my warped perceptions of other people’s shortcomings, then those “obvious” faults flip around and become shared traits. We are all flawed, and the flaws can be glorious.
“I resolve to love myself.”
If I read that, I would want to hit that person in the eyeball. Maybe you should resolve to get over yourself and move on, idiot. Ha ha. But there’s the nagging truth, tucked away, hidden in the mirror reflection of those words. When I am feeling good about my work, my life, my family, I just don’t take the time to pay attention to other people’s weirdness. It’s all there, of course. Quirks and sickness. But it generally becomes inconsequential to my own well being.
So I resolve to recognize the things that make me feel content. There. Nothing crazy or monumental, and no pressure to completely overhaul the way I interface with the world. I might very well continue scrutinizing everyone around me, assuming the worst. But, just as a start, as a step in the right direction, I need to take notice of the moments when I’m feeling happy and normal. And you should, too. Document them in such a way that you aren’t simply counting blessings. The goal is to figure out where to invest yourself. To recognize those actions and moments that deliver the greatest payback, and begin steering your efforts toward those things. The good will and kindness might follow, but, for now, stop pretending that you are exempt from the human condition and the ubiquitous folly.
Tags: curmudgeon, Good Will, Happiness, Hell
This is a very good resolution.