I’ll Take a Little Less.
I was idealistic, naïve and had a lot more goodness and warmth in my heart then .I had previously written about how selfish and ugly the adult world is – when I saw how first hand, how some of my older acquaintances constantly, played musical beds with their friend’s exes, how cheating is rampant and making use of others when clearly at their expense. I simply couldn’t reconcile how humans could do that to one another, much less friends.
Over a waffle brunch at Dempsey, some girlfriends and I talked about it. The source they said was due to the certain seduction of forbidden fruit. I saw it as a mere manifestation of an aging disorder, as the needs of Me, Myself and I slow became supreme reason for mankind’s existence. It wasn’t a specific malice, but more of a hardened callousness for an all-consuming drive to fulfill self-needs
In a slightly warped but valid perspective, I felt the stirrings of how it could very easily happen. Especially when one hurts emotionally and is hell-bent on compounding the affliction, which pretty much results in a certain kind of bitterness. Eventually, it translates into a misdirected anger. I don’t care, I’m just going to take, take, take – because people have taken things at my expense. If I’m hurting, why should I put others in consideration when no one has even deigned to do the same for me? So there we have it, I felt precisely like that in the last few months. I even declared – for every time I got my heart broken, I’ll break 3 hearts. In my short young life, my heart has been in the trauma room about twice. Which pretty much leaves a to-do-list to shatter 6 hearts.
So young, so angry – a wise old sage would say.
Well, until a week or so ago when I – (said slightly sardonically) saw the light.
It goes like this – the mother of the kids I teach, basically does not treat their domestic helpers well. Unfortunately, I witnessed an incident which really would have evoked a outrage when I was younger, but which showed up in a kind of inner muted indignance/ sympathy. She was annoyed and one of them, and basically ordered the maid open up the letters – and in show of vindictiveness, dropped the pile of letters deliberately, on the floor with an obvious intent to slight her. It was shameful – nothing short of that. I pretended I didn’t see it continuing to teach. At the end of the lesson, I caught the maid’s eye – in that moment, so much was transmitted in the visual contact. I looked away almost cringing ( not to my credit – reluctant to get involved in any kind of drama), but she saw it in my eyes – was it pity? Was it indignance? I don’t know.
Tearing up, she said “Its hard being a maid, you know. Madam is always right, you are always wrong. ”
In that same moment, I felt ashamed for wanting to scoot out as fast as I could. Something deep down, which has been dormant for a long time now – the open ever-willing to help humanitarian spirit made a brief, almost involuntary appearance.
“She’s like that. (I bore the shame of both myself and the mother at that moment) Be strong.”
“Thank you, for your words.” She said.
The next lesson, again – the reluctance to be involved in any drama that could jeopardize my rice bowl, surfaced again. This time, I shoved it away – looked her in the eye and asked her “Are you okay?”
Later on, she slipped me a post it saying “Thank you for your kindness, it makes me happy. May God Bless you all the time”.
It was so gratifying; I haven’t felt like a nice person in so long. All I did was say less than ten words to her (qualifying that it was contaminated my own selfish reluctance) and it made her feel better.
If so little can be done, to make someone feel slightly better – why the HELL am I going out consciously to hurt others?
Well, growing older and more cynical – I’ve pretty much burnt my cape that I donned while being the crusader of the victims of injustice when I was younger. I’m not saying I’ve miraculously, decided to make another one, but you can be sure about me making a concerted effort to be a little less selfish.
I’ll take a lil’ less.
Over a waffle brunch at Dempsey, some girlfriends and I talked about it. The source they said was due to the certain seduction of forbidden fruit. I saw it as a mere manifestation of an aging disorder, as the needs of Me, Myself and I slow became supreme reason for mankind’s existence. It wasn’t a specific malice, but more of a hardened callousness for an all-consuming drive to fulfill self-needs
In a slightly warped but valid perspective, I felt the stirrings of how it could very easily happen. Especially when one hurts emotionally and is hell-bent on compounding the affliction, which pretty much results in a certain kind of bitterness. Eventually, it translates into a misdirected anger. I don’t care, I’m just going to take, take, take – because people have taken things at my expense. If I’m hurting, why should I put others in consideration when no one has even deigned to do the same for me? So there we have it, I felt precisely like that in the last few months. I even declared – for every time I got my heart broken, I’ll break 3 hearts. In my short young life, my heart has been in the trauma room about twice. Which pretty much leaves a to-do-list to shatter 6 hearts.
So young, so angry – a wise old sage would say.
Well, until a week or so ago when I – (said slightly sardonically) saw the light.
It goes like this – the mother of the kids I teach, basically does not treat their domestic helpers well. Unfortunately, I witnessed an incident which really would have evoked a outrage when I was younger, but which showed up in a kind of inner muted indignance/ sympathy. She was annoyed and one of them, and basically ordered the maid open up the letters – and in show of vindictiveness, dropped the pile of letters deliberately, on the floor with an obvious intent to slight her. It was shameful – nothing short of that. I pretended I didn’t see it continuing to teach. At the end of the lesson, I caught the maid’s eye – in that moment, so much was transmitted in the visual contact. I looked away almost cringing ( not to my credit – reluctant to get involved in any kind of drama), but she saw it in my eyes – was it pity? Was it indignance? I don’t know.
Tearing up, she said “Its hard being a maid, you know. Madam is always right, you are always wrong. ”
In that same moment, I felt ashamed for wanting to scoot out as fast as I could. Something deep down, which has been dormant for a long time now – the open ever-willing to help humanitarian spirit made a brief, almost involuntary appearance.
“She’s like that. (I bore the shame of both myself and the mother at that moment) Be strong.”
“Thank you, for your words.” She said.
The next lesson, again – the reluctance to be involved in any drama that could jeopardize my rice bowl, surfaced again. This time, I shoved it away – looked her in the eye and asked her “Are you okay?”
Later on, she slipped me a post it saying “Thank you for your kindness, it makes me happy. May God Bless you all the time”.
It was so gratifying; I haven’t felt like a nice person in so long. All I did was say less than ten words to her (qualifying that it was contaminated my own selfish reluctance) and it made her feel better.
If so little can be done, to make someone feel slightly better – why the HELL am I going out consciously to hurt others?
Well, growing older and more cynical – I’ve pretty much burnt my cape that I donned while being the crusader of the victims of injustice when I was younger. I’m not saying I’ve miraculously, decided to make another one, but you can be sure about me making a concerted effort to be a little less selfish.
I’ll take a lil’ less.
Labels: Real Life
posted by nubilewordsmith at 10:04 PM
1 comments
