After I filled up my motorcycle with gas yesterday, I took off my helmet and walked to the station to pay. A young woman in the car behind my motorcycle, waiting to fill, said, "hey, can you move your bike ahead so I can fill?"
I had my helmet off, I was closer to the gas station than my bike, and her tone was a little demanding, so I said no.
Her instant (anticipated?) response was, "fuck-you asshole!"
I felt my heart race. Fight or flight streaming from my animal brain. But I acted like I didn't hear her and went in to pay.
She followed me in and continued her salty comments about how it only would have taken a couple seconds to move my bike. She followed me in! Early 20's, bleached platinum hair with pink highlights, very girly in a princess pretty kind of way.
"Have a nice day," I replied after paying and second guessing my gas-getting routine. It was hard to concentrate. Did I get my card back? Did I write the mileage on the receipt? Was she going to try to punch me? Was I ready to let my karate training do the talking? Did she do anything to my precious Honda!?
I drove off without incident, and as soon as I hit the freeway I cranked her open. 130. 140. 150. Leaving everyone in my dust. Thinking about all the things I should have said, but didn't. And I felt pretty bad when I got home. Tense shoulders from holding my head up in the wind. Sore forearms from gripping the handlebar. I was pretending it didn't bother me, but it did. A stranger! Why should I give her an ounce of thought?
Criticism hurts. It doesn't matter who it comes from. Especially out of the blue. An art critique is a totally different thing. I'm a long way -- a long fucking way -- from having my heart so full of Wayne Dyer's love that I can suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and still be a good person.
The sad thing is that I had just finished being thoroughly entertained and creatively inspired by the light-hearted and hilarious Midsummer Night's Dream at Hawlrelak Park and I didn't think a thought about how great it was until this morning when I woke up. Maybe I can get the feeling back later...
I agree it's OK to have flaws, especially other people, but I still feel like I should be better. The starting point to a lot of healing has to be this unconditional love for self, but I ain't there. Not even close. I can't even bear to meditate anymore. I wonder what it's like to accept one's self to the core? What does it feel like to go on from there? It seems remote and impossible to imagine these days.
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4 comments:
i think sometimes the bravest thing you can do is just to shoulder the burden. Just think how much worse you might have felt if you had lowered to her level and responded in kind. Sometimes the smallest thing can get under our skins, especially if we are feeling vulnerable. Maybe your lack of ability to focus (meditate) has caused you to become untethered?
Sometimes i think it would be nice to have even a moment of clarity
I doubt there is truly anyone out there who accepts themselves truly to the core - we all have our dark edges
More than her silly impatience, I think it was her word choice. Words have such power especially words filled with contempt. They tend to reverberate. I suggest you stop fucking with your head because you're not an asshole.
You must have taken you wisdom vitamins today! Yes. I especially appreciate your insight about feeling untethered. That's EXACTLY how I feel. At work. At home. I think I'll just go with it.
LOL. Sometimes I am. Mostly not though.
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