Don''t Drive Angry

My post content

There’s a sign at the Deer Harbor Post Office. If you come up Jack and Jill Lane, you’ll encounter a sign that says, “Wrong Way”. Well, maybe it says “Do Not Enter,” which, for the purpose of this essay, will mean the same thing.

An airplane flying from George Bush Intercontinental Airport to LaGuardia Airport is going the wrong way hundreds of times. Shifting wind patterns, congested air traffic, turbulence.

At the same time, automated systems are making rapid micro-adjustments to keep the plane on course.

Without course corrections and a deviation of .0001 degrees, it lands on top of a Taco Bell in Jackson Heights. Which is great if you're hungry, but not so good if you want to keep living.

I have felt lost much of my life. That being said, I’ve always lived somewhere beautiful, and I’ve never gone hungry, unless you count missing the first sandwich at our construction site coffee break. Note: that was from a time when I could burn 10,000 calories a day. These days, I could probably burn that same 10,000 calories in twenty-four hours, but I would also literally be on fire.

I’ve made my peace with the fact that neither Tony Robbins nor Stephen Covey could generate sufficient influence to put me on a straight path.

I had a great experience working with Chuck Silva, and then I quit working with him, and my progress evaporated, so it’s possible I have something to do with it.

But… BUT… this is all predicated on the fact that I should know when I’m off course.

Addiction and divorce would suggest that there are times when not only do I not know what I’m doing, but I don’t know why I’m doing it. I would agree with that statement.

I want to live a good live. Unfortunately, that’s mostly so I can say, on my deathbed, with poignant sincerity, “I’ve lived a good live. I have no regrets.”

A good thing is that this is one of my possible futures. At the time, I may be so tired of living that I completely release all of my expectations. Of me, of you, of God, of the Lower Tavern’s French fries.

It’s not that I never live in the moment. I do. And then the wind shifts. Or turbulence changes my perception, so I’m no longer looking through a lens of compassion, but I’ve changed glasses, and now I’m looking through fear, and its partner in crime, anger.

I was raised with a Quaker influence. I was a follower of the Bahai Faith. I am in love with my children. All that and more. But it wasn’t until I was in my thirties that I got my first fledgling idea of compassion and how to use it as a lens to look through.

In my early years, I thought fear and anger were so normal that I could be in the middle of it, and if you had asked me how I was, I would have said, “Fine.”

In the last year, my goal of living with empathy and compassion as my guides has been challenged. I’m having a bad reaction to the depth of cruelty that is happening daily.

A good friend of mine showed me that I’m late to the party. He proposed that, if I weren’t a white male, college (two-year) graduate, who’s never been hungry or homeless, I might have felt the direct impact of culture cruelty years and years and years ago. Many of you did.

I’ve been fantasizing about what I would do if the shit that’s happening now found its way to my doorstep. Would I throw myself like a human bowling ball? Would I have the heart and courage to put myself between the embodiment of fear and anger and the victim of that horror? If I did, would that be fair to my daughters?

What has been happening this last year, and especially the last two weeks, is me getting more sensitive when I drop into judgment and accusation. I’m not in any doubt that my outrage towards the cruelty is warranted. (I know I’m repeating myself, something I try to avoid when I’m writing, but the word cruelty doesn’t pull any punches.)

Which seems reasonable. The problem for me is that I feel this deeply, and it’s overflowing into thoughts where it isn’t helpful. Like the SOB in the white F250 going eighty-five miles per hour while in a sixty mph zone. And the absolute bastard that is climbing my ass when I’m trying to take a leisurely drive from Deer Harbor to Island Market. And when that same idiot is in front of me and dawdling when I have very important tasks that require me to go over the limit. The supply chain that says I have to pay six dollars for a bag of Doritos that used to cost $3.46.

And it goes on and on, because I have enough fear and anger, that I’ve got plenty to spare. That isn’t who I want to be in the world, but it seems like I don’t know I’m going off course until I’m already there. I don’t want to send the Taco Bell in New Jersy up in flames, so I have to adjust my flight path.

So I remind myself that twenty years ago, I was the happy idiot who had my own white F250. I camped out in the left lane.

That every person I encounter on the Crow Valley road has their own reasoning for how fast or slow they are going. Reasons that I can’t possibly fathom.

That even though I want to burn down the factory where they made my inflatable hot tub, it wouldn’t be a good idea.

That my going to jail, or worse, isn’t what is best for my daughters. Heroic for sure, but not what is best.

I have a practice that, so far, has diffused my Defcon One responses every time.

I am not a devout Buddhist. I haven’t studied for years and years, and as most of you who know me could attest, I’m not a good candidate for a ten-day silent retreat.

I did, somehow, acquire the Metta (love) meditation, and I pull it out twenty to thirty times a day. Because, right now, that’s how often I’m off course.

I’m near the head of the list to receive this meditation because I’m just not that productive or contributive when I’m angry and afraid.

So… what now? What can I do and also stay out of jail?

Today I will call senators and representatives acting on the advise of my daughter, Noelle. I’ll write this essay. I’ll work on my yard, so it can be a comfort to friends who want to visit. I’ll meet a friend for coffee, because when I do, both of us feel better at the end. I will only curse you out briefly for driving so fast/slow because the Metta meditation is on the tip of my tongue these days.

May you be safe and loved

May you be free from suffering

May you be happy and content

May you live at ease

May you have all of this without causing harm