That would be me. The Christmas hypocrite.
I hate, hate, hate the questions, "What do you want for Christmas?" and "What's on your Christmas list?" Very kind, well-intentioned people (to whom I am related, in most cases) wanting to know how to shop for me. I don't blame them. I already have my basic needs, and I'm not too picky about what I wear. I have only one hobby, and I have everything affordable that I need for that. So, I'm not easy to shop for, I know. But I'm also easy to shop for, since I'm equally as mildly-excited about really cool gifts as mediocre gifts. So I frustrate those who want to buy something for me, but I still hate those questions.
I'm not sure why I'm so messed up. I don't like to be demanding. Being selfish is bad, they say, so I try not to be. I don't like the attention of the question, or even the attention I get when opening a gift. The giver is usually more excited than I am, and my even-keeled reaction usually disappoints. "Hey, that's nice. Thanks. What time is kickoff?" I'm truly grateful, but not very demonstrative. Worse, if the gift is something I want, then I feel bad that I got it. There's got to be a disease name for this. Presentosis.
When people ask those question, I try to remember they are being nice, and yet no matter how I try, I can only manage to mumble and stutter and say nothing helpful.
But I'm a Christmas hypocrite, because I'm lightning quick to ask the exact same questions of them!
I'm admittedly an unskilled gift-receiver. But I'm a horrible gift-giver. So I ask those questions. I never have had a good idea of a gift to buy. Never. I despise shopping, and I'm uncontrollably hostile against malls (those non-sequential zoos of colorful, loud, tortuous frenzy!). Ideas I think will be great invariably end up falling flat (I get less than "Hey, that's nice" because they say lying is bad, too). Then there it is ... I've wasted yet another entire year of gift-giving, and it will be twelve long months before I can disappoint again.
So, I ask the questions in order to avoid pain for both of us - the very questions I hate to be asked and can never answer comfortably. Hypocrite, and at Christmas of all things! 'Tis the season to be sorry, fa la la la blah!
First-world problem, I realize.
Some people are great gift-givers. I married one of those. Some are great gift-receivers - so gracious, making the giver feel so good. These people are aliens to me. They come from a different world, speak a different language (called Giftonian), and collectively think that I'm the alien. Strange beasts who make it all look so easy.
I probably won't change. I'm tired of trying. To be honest, friendship is the only gift I really value.
So don't be surprised if you get burlap socks or a paint-by-numbers kit that uses Roman numerals. Whatever it is, it will be poorly wrapped and likely missing a tag saying who it is to and who it is from. But you'll know who it's from. Sorry.
Monday, December 19, 2016
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Taming the Selfish Jerk
Recently, I had an evening ahead of me that I was not looking forward to. I'll save the details, but I was facing back-to-back events that I knew would not be enjoyable. In fact, they would be very taxing to me because of my particular personality. Others could well have enjoyed themselves, but not me. Either one of the events would have drained me by itself, but two of them back-to-back loomed like a two-headed monster. But I was going of my own volition. Lynne was already preparing for me to come home late, exhausted, and withdrawn.
As I'm driving to my first appointment, I found myself in rush hour. Normally, I'm a little competitive and self-righteous when I drive. I sometimes let people in, but I usually have to think about it twice. If there's enough room for me to switch lanes to get an advantage, I'll attack the open space aggressively and competitively. But my worst trait is when I see other drivers who are more aggressive than I am. I subconsciously become the Lane Czar, dictating who should be allowed to change lanes. Yes, I will accelerate subtly just enough to prevent the violator from violating. If they zoom down the lane that's going to merge in, I resist giving them space to squeeze in at the last minute when they finally flick on their blinkers. I figure if they don't have a conscience, I can share mine. I have enough for two. Terrible, I know. But I'm right. Right?
Taming my selfishness 1. While driving, I could feel that competitive, czarist stress rising in my chest while I was contemplating the night ahead of me. And I knew that in order to survive the night, I needed to just be what others needed me to be, despite what I personally wanted. So I decided to start with the commute. I started letting everyone in ahead of me. Whoever wanted that space, I gave it to them. If I wanted that space and someone else was ready to gun it, I gave it to them. Whoever wanted to merge, I slowed a bit and gave them the margin they needed. Even those who zoomed down to the last foot of asphalt, I gave them space to come in. I let go of every desire to have that space for myself, I regulated my speed so I didn't cause chain reaction slowdowns, and I gave space to everyone who wanted it, no matter how they were driving. My job was not to get to my destination on time, but to do what I could to help all traffic move forward.
Taming my selfishness 2: At my first appointment of the night, it was very busy and noisy, with a lot of voices creating a kind of verbal traffic jam. I had a particular way I thought things should go, but instead, I repeated the same attitude I had driving. I gave up "my lane" and allowed others to drive as they wanted to drive, the circumstance to flow as it wanted to flow, and just be someone who helped traffic flow in whatever way I could. My job was not to get to my "destination" on time.
Taming my selfishness 2.5: While driving to the second appointment, I was charged with picking up dinner for others. I was running late, so I didn't need to waste any time. However, I had to embarrassingly slip out of the drive-thru lane because I couldn't find the list of requests. I went inside, found my list, and ordered, and of course, my order was the one that got caught in some equipment failure. Another traffic jam. Rather than get annoyed, I let that "car" pull in front of me, so to speak.
Taming my selfishness 3: At the second appointment, the situation was hard to take. People I care about in an unimaginably difficult set of circumstances. It was a traffic jam of problems. And they needed someone to hear them and understand them. It's no fun listening to problems layered upon problems with no solution in sight. This was not a time for mutually beneficial back-and-forth catching up like we used to. It was a time to slow down a bit and let the car get in ahead of me.
None of this was easy for me. And I'm fully aware that my end of the evening was easier than for others. This was not heroic on my part. It was not enjoyable. I did come home weary, sad, and ready to crawl into a cave of solitude. But there were people who needed to get in front of me, and I tried to allow them to do so without any effort on my part to grab my place in the flow of traffic.
More importantly, what I did get out of this was freedom. I didn't have that competitive stress of trying to aggressively take something for myself, to get my place in traffic and slip ahead of others to get to my destination on time. I didn't get the feeling of "winning" by grabbing what I could. And to be honest, I didn't get that kind of satisfaction that comes from helping others, either. But I had freedom. For an evening, I was free from having to seize what I wanted.
The driving was an intentional exercise to get myself in the mood for the rest of the night, to put myself in the habit of giving up my lane. The exercise actually helped. During both events, when I felt like I wanted to grab the reigns and steer things in my direction, I remembered the drive and just repeated the same action. And on a very unpleasant night, I had some freedom.
As I'm driving to my first appointment, I found myself in rush hour. Normally, I'm a little competitive and self-righteous when I drive. I sometimes let people in, but I usually have to think about it twice. If there's enough room for me to switch lanes to get an advantage, I'll attack the open space aggressively and competitively. But my worst trait is when I see other drivers who are more aggressive than I am. I subconsciously become the Lane Czar, dictating who should be allowed to change lanes. Yes, I will accelerate subtly just enough to prevent the violator from violating. If they zoom down the lane that's going to merge in, I resist giving them space to squeeze in at the last minute when they finally flick on their blinkers. I figure if they don't have a conscience, I can share mine. I have enough for two. Terrible, I know. But I'm right. Right?
Taming my selfishness 1. While driving, I could feel that competitive, czarist stress rising in my chest while I was contemplating the night ahead of me. And I knew that in order to survive the night, I needed to just be what others needed me to be, despite what I personally wanted. So I decided to start with the commute. I started letting everyone in ahead of me. Whoever wanted that space, I gave it to them. If I wanted that space and someone else was ready to gun it, I gave it to them. Whoever wanted to merge, I slowed a bit and gave them the margin they needed. Even those who zoomed down to the last foot of asphalt, I gave them space to come in. I let go of every desire to have that space for myself, I regulated my speed so I didn't cause chain reaction slowdowns, and I gave space to everyone who wanted it, no matter how they were driving. My job was not to get to my destination on time, but to do what I could to help all traffic move forward.
Taming my selfishness 2: At my first appointment of the night, it was very busy and noisy, with a lot of voices creating a kind of verbal traffic jam. I had a particular way I thought things should go, but instead, I repeated the same attitude I had driving. I gave up "my lane" and allowed others to drive as they wanted to drive, the circumstance to flow as it wanted to flow, and just be someone who helped traffic flow in whatever way I could. My job was not to get to my "destination" on time.
Taming my selfishness 2.5: While driving to the second appointment, I was charged with picking up dinner for others. I was running late, so I didn't need to waste any time. However, I had to embarrassingly slip out of the drive-thru lane because I couldn't find the list of requests. I went inside, found my list, and ordered, and of course, my order was the one that got caught in some equipment failure. Another traffic jam. Rather than get annoyed, I let that "car" pull in front of me, so to speak.
None of this was easy for me. And I'm fully aware that my end of the evening was easier than for others. This was not heroic on my part. It was not enjoyable. I did come home weary, sad, and ready to crawl into a cave of solitude. But there were people who needed to get in front of me, and I tried to allow them to do so without any effort on my part to grab my place in the flow of traffic.
More importantly, what I did get out of this was freedom. I didn't have that competitive stress of trying to aggressively take something for myself, to get my place in traffic and slip ahead of others to get to my destination on time. I didn't get the feeling of "winning" by grabbing what I could. And to be honest, I didn't get that kind of satisfaction that comes from helping others, either. But I had freedom. For an evening, I was free from having to seize what I wanted.
The driving was an intentional exercise to get myself in the mood for the rest of the night, to put myself in the habit of giving up my lane. The exercise actually helped. During both events, when I felt like I wanted to grab the reigns and steer things in my direction, I remembered the drive and just repeated the same action. And on a very unpleasant night, I had some freedom.
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
Too Small
I love science. I love the discipline, the process, the inquisitive posture, the discoveries, the imagination, and the accountability of community. But science is not big enough to satisfy my soul.
I'm moderately interested in politics and government. I see the necessity, I see the potential for the common good, and I love that our society will spend thousands of dollars pursuing the well-being of even just one child in need. But politics is not big enough to give me hope.
I tolerate religion. For all the ways that it can be abused, I can appreciate how religion can contribute to community, mutual support, and attaching to something bigger than oneself. But religion is not big enough to make me good.
I enjoy sports and leisure. I'm my most animated when following a close game. Bicycling clears my head and improves my mood. Travel is like spice, giving the rest of life a rich flavor. But sports and leisure are not big enough to give me peace.
I like myself, usually. I must - I do things to take care of me. I don't have an irresistible charm or anything, but I usually treat myself kindly. But I'm not a big enough reason to press on through this broken world.
If Jesus isn't who he says he is, then nothing is big enough for me.
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