Things that Bug the Crap Out of Me - Part 2

I've gotten some responses to the Bug Me Item file and the first one I'm going to address is Public Expectoration. I chose this one because it is straight-forward and, interestingly, high on the list of my own personal Pet Peeves. Good one, Nancy! This makes a great challenge for me!

First I want to be clear that no matter how I tweak it, rudeness is unacceptable. We cannot be inconsiderate of others with the expectation that others need to get over it. I consider public spitting rude. Unfortunately we live in a world with it; how can we do so with our respective heads in a better place? Let's look at what it does to us – why does it bug us and how? I wasn't told why it bugs our correspondent, so I'll have go with my own issues.

1. It is dirty. Nothing is dirtier than the human mouth - and what comes out of it.
2. The sound of someone coughing up phlegm makes me gag (I'm gagging right now just writing about it).
3. It is unnecessary. There is no reason to spit. If there is, use a handkerchief.
4. I might step in it; which can result in the reaction described in #2.
5. Per the objections stated above, it is inconsiderate.
6. There is an aura of machismo that seems to be associated with spitting, making it as much a statement as a biological urge or necessity.
   

This is tough. The first place I am tempted to go is to causality, why one would spit. I'm not sure why individuals spit so it's hard for me to go there for understanding and compassion. The fact that I have such a visceral reaction makes it that much more challenging as well.

1. Spitting can be culturally specific. Spitting anywhere in China has, until recently, been considered completely appropriate. (Between the arrival of foreigners for the Olympics and SARS, the government has been launching anti-spitting campaigns.) Is the spitter native to this country? How embarrassed he will be when he finds out it is not appropriate.
2. The gag reflex is my own reaction. Own it.
3. Men don't carry tissues. Men are spitters. Men have nothing into which they may spit.
   
4. I am reminded of the story of my then co-worker, Mary Margaret McMahon, who returned from her lunch break telling me about this poor woman she had seen who must have grown up without a mother because she was wearing white pants in October. Her concern and sympathy for the woman were genuine; she really had jumped to the decision that the woman had no mother, and thus her fashion gaff. Can we consider that the spitter has or had no adult to correct his ill behavior?
5. The macho 16 year old is, whether spitting or displaying some other ridiculous chest-beating behavior, flirting with adulthood and scared sh**less. Poor kid.
   

This case, in particular is about adjusting our overall attitude. Of course rude behavior bothers us, particularly when it has an impact that feels personal. It is a matter of how much you are willing to be worked up about it. The key is in adjusting your own relationship to the event. I really hate spitting, but am I going to let it put a serious damper on my day? So, I guess another discussion that needs to happen soon is Techniques for Shifting Your Relationship to Events.

Love to hear your responses to this one.

Housekeeping - Let's Keep in Touch

My sister keeps telling me that she cannot comment on my blog. Is anyone else having this problem? If so, please click here to go to my website and you can email from the bottom of the page, or directly at kate@thehealingpresence.com and let me know. All my settings indicate that anyone, including anonymous posters, can comment (all comments do, initially, go to me for moderation - I have yet to reject anything.).

If you do want to comment and it doesn't go through, please email me and (a) describe what happens and (b) tell me your comment so I can post it.

The next post I intend to be Stuff that Bugs the Crap Out of Me Part 2. Stay tuned!

Not What You Were Expecting

Today's exercise for myself is to subvert expectations, watch my expectations be subverted, or notice the capacity for subverted expectations. The other day, I took my daughter to buy a white garment to dye in her batik class and I suggested a polo shirt. She thought that batiking a polo shirt was weird and I tried to explain to her that is was cool because it subverted expectations. She wasn't interested in hearing it at that point.

In a couple of weeks we are going to be taking my daughter to visit her Kansas City relatives and my father-in-law suggested we meet in Des Moines and find something fun to do there. Fun. In Des Moines. Now, I'm not a big cosmopolitan snob, but I've driven through Des Moines more times than I can count and we couldn't even find a good place for lunch there. Everyone else has seemed to have a lot more enthusiasm for this than I have.

Desperately, I turned to the internet only to discover that there are something like 5 or 6 historical homes to tour. You have to understand, we all have our own nerdy buttons (I think I have more than the average) and historical home tours is a big one for me. So now, I'm the one who's all worked up about the historic homes.

Also, the Des Moines Art Center is housed in a building designed by (NERD ALERT) Eliel Saarinen with additions by Richard Meier and I.M. Pei. Okay, I'm sold.

Having our expectations subverted is a wonderful exercise in recognizing:

• Our attachment to our ideas and investment in them
• How our preconceptions take us out of living in the present as we make decisions about how things will be – a recipe for having them disrupted either for the better or worse

So, today (and maybe all week) I will notice when I have expectations, when I can let go of them, and when they are subverted (as well as making an effort to gently subvert them in others).

I want to hear about your experience with your expectations being subverted (or subverting others). Hey guys! I'm dying for a conversation here!

Things That Bug the Crap Out Of Me - Part 1

I have decided that it might be interesting to examine things that get on my nerves and, by examining them, learn more about equanimity and compassion. Please be warned; they are bound to be stupid. Embarrassingly so. The things that get on our nerves rarely deserve the energy we give them.

The first one, in no particular order of gravity, irritation-induction, or importance, involves the new Dyson hand-dryers being installed in public restrooms. Does anyone NOT hate those electric hand-dryers in the restrooms? They just don't work worth a damn. The Airblade does. I was so profoundly impressed with these things. They work. Well. Really well. So what's my issue?

So the problem itself is not the dryers; it is the people who use them. They work very simply. You stick your hands in and then slowly pull them out and the dryer works like an air squeegee. Genius, no? Directions are posted and worded clearly above the dryer. So why do people try to use them incorrectly? Here's this beautifully designed solution to a problem and people can't be bothered to learn how to use it properly. Of course, it then works no better than the old-style dryer. Let me be clear, this issue does not keep me up at night or raise my blood pressure appreciably. It just bugs me.

Now, I didn't design the Dyson Airblade; why do I care whether or not people use it or appreciate it appropriately? I think the things that I find irritating are:

1. Here is a product which does not look at all like the product it is replacing. There is a pervasive lack of curiosity that is made apparent here,
2. There is no appreciation for good industrial design - both in the aesthetic and practical senses,
3. There is no gratitude that someone designed something that will make YOUR life better, addressing an inherently problematic and pervasive item we all encounter.

That probably boils it down for now.

Okay, let's break it down:

1. I feel a kind of compassion for those who, for whatever reason, live their life without the capacity for curiosity. Perhaps they are overwhelmed by other problems in their lives. Maybe they were raised in an environment in which curiosity was firmly discouraged (it happens - sad but true). Whatever the reason; I can allow my heart to soften in relationship to these people because I realize that their circumstances are deficient and I wish them better.
2. I don't know what to do about this one.
3. How do I know what their feelings about the Airblade? This is a hyper-dramatization of the story I have started in my own head about these people. I have used the momentum of my indignation to wind myself up and used this as fuel for the fire of self-righteous thrills.
   

There. I feel better all ready.

So, like my friend Dennis Cass who is trying to help people become more awesome in their contributions to culture (primarily writing), I'd like to help people cope better with life. Is there something bugging the crap out of you? Would you like me to help you defuse it in a way that creates compassion and takes the energy out of it?

Send your pet peeves to me and we'll see what we can make of them.

Accidental Poetry

Why do you worry When the wind blows so wildly Through the trees outside

I wrote this haiku by (sort of) accident last Sunday. I went to the Minnesota Zen Meditation Center as I frequently do on Sunday mornings to sit and hear a dharma talk. When I showed up, I discovered that Norman Fischer was there to do the talk!

I kinda knew who Zoketsu Norman Fischer was; I've read an article or two by him or quoting him, but not much. He came in and sat zazen (meditation) with us before his talk. While we sat, we could hear the wind blowing in fierce gales through the open windows; shaking the trees ferociously. As I sat, I was struck some anxiety (as sometimes happens) and I thought to myself, "How can you worry when the wind is blowing so wildly?" and then it became a poem, right there in front of me. Writing poetry is not the point of zazen, but there it was; I had to nudge it to get it into haiku form, but not much.

When Tim Burkett introduced Norman, he mentioned, before anything else, that he is a poet. This took me a bit aback. Never have I written a poem in zazen before and it made me wonder about the possible extent and ramifications of resonance. I talk a lot about emotional resonance with others in my Healing Presence classes and the effect it can have on the overall experience. I had never considered the idea of resonance in terms of skills or talents. Did being in that state of presence with someone who writes poetry regularly and skillfully resonate with my "inner poet"? I am delighted with this discovery and cannot wait to explore and play with this idea, stretching it to its illogical conclusion.

Please share any experience you have had along these lines; I'm dying to hear about them.

Written July 11 - Posted Today

It is 4:45 in the morning and my power is out. I’m drafting this in Word using my battery with the intention of posting it once my wireless goes back on with the power. I know that my blog has been uncomfortably silent of late. I feel like my life has been a bit out of control. My friend Carla the attorney astrologer says that it’s because Saturn is directly on my Sun, Venus and Pluto (which means it is also directly opposing my Moon – full moon baby you know). All I know is that I feel like I’m running really hard and not getting anywhere. She says I need to buckle down to the most necessary and yet unpleasant tasks. I’m not entirely sure when this is supposed to happen. Somehow, more than usual, there are not enough hours in my day lately.

Well I’ll be damned!!! I’m sitting here in my living room amongst the chaos (more on that) at 5 in the morning and I keep hearing this weird noise. Initially I think nothing of it, but after a bit it starts to creep me out. Do we have mice again? Crap. But, could it be? No way. But maybe…

It is. It’s our hermit crab. He went into molt months ago (early April maybe?) and never came out. I know molt can take a while, but we were pretty sure he was dead. It was just a matter of time until I faced cleaning out his cage and deciding what to do with his stuff (and his wee carcass). Yet here he is, clacking around his little glass cage. I immediately filled his food and water bowls. I’d hate to witness his resurrection only to have him die of dehydration.

There’s a lesson in here somewhere. But it’s now 5:07 am and I’m not sure what it is. I do know that I have to deal with my house. We started the long and involved process of painting our kitchen a couple of weeks ago and everything that was in there is now everywhere else. Gotta clear my house so I can clear my head.