Every one of us loves our own story. We are all attached, consciously or unconsciously, to our very personal version of truth, our take on who is right, our convictions about what makes sense, our determinations about how one should live in the world. Certainly the fallacies in our thinking that blindside us about ourselves and others is one of the great themes so deftly handled by Jonathan Franzen in his spectacular new novel, Freedom.
It is also a concept that has come to have particular meaning to me in the last few weeks. A dear friend has recently become an ideological militant. She is taking the path of anger rather than gentle persuasion in her self-professed mission to change the world and to leave it a better place. The vitriol she has been spewing leaves an acidic residue on anyone within ear shot.
Cindy, a dear friend and a wise woman, wrote this to me recently when I told her about my discomfort:
I am struck with how much she loves her story. Before I did a lot of work on these issues, I would fight tooth and nail for my beliefs about things. One of the most helpful things I heard was this: “If you want to make someone happy, let them be right.” I know whenever I defend myself and my viewpoint, I am going to war. Who am I to make anyone believe or think differently than they do? If I loved them, wouldn’t it be an act of love to let them have their point of view in all its glory? And they will anyway…so in reality it’s hopeless. The question is, “Do I want to suffer over it?” That’s my choice.
Your friend seems quite happy with her anger. It seems to be working for her as far as I can tell. And for me, I’d ask, what does her anger have to do with me? What does her opinion of anything have to do with me? She is just believing her thoughts.
Cindy’s words helped me see the transparency of my own biases. Of course they are there and of course they are relatively invisible to me. It goes without saying that I think that my view of things is right and that I see things clearly. I believe that coming from anger is a bust, that it repels people away from you and creates resistance to your ideas. If you really want to change the way people think and behave, you cannot come from condescension and contempt but from a place of vision, optimism and hope.
Says who? Says me I guess. My belief system is no more or less valid than its counter argument that anger is the only way to really bring about change. As Cindy pointed out, we are all in love with our own version of life.
Taking this stance of the either/or and the both/and doesn’t feel like prevarication or evasion to me. It feels more like some valuable life wisdom, the kind you get more of during the second half of your life.
Well anyway that’s my story.
Now you’ve done it. I have been reading your blog with lukewarm affiliation until now. What you are describing is the formula by which I have managed to remain married for nearly 30 years. I sincerely believe that war is the complete failure of civilization and that we all must learn to respect the fullness of another’s apprehension of reality and necessity. “Jeder mensch steht unter seiner Himmelskugel” Many people become anxious about “social responsibility’ in a sort of NPR/bleeding heart manner that smacks of fascist conformity. Your friend is right. I will continue to follow your blog with interest.
Thank you Agnes. Hope you find reason to stop by again.
When the world becomes more tolerant and honors different beliefs without being injurious, hearing will come with more clarity. I find it difficult to concentrate when being verbally pummeled.
[…] More on the theme of being right and the cost of that fixation (referenced earlier in this post): […]
Good stuff. Just a few things to add to the mix: Anger is always about wanting change — and we always want people to have access to that energy, don’t we? It’s a well of energy, and tapping into it can pull people out/keep people out of depression. At the same time that anger can be SO hard to be around; it can feel like poison gas. For myself, I do better with helping angry, acting out kids than depressed, withdrawn ones. And when it comes to angry adults, I try to to see the child in them–the one that wants change (and often the change they desperately want is different that thing they are purportedly angry about.) In the effort to just be there for/with angry friends, sometimes it helps me to think about stuff that makes me angry (injustice?) just to enter that energized angry place with them, and share it for awhile. And sometimes, if you hang out together long enough, you can start to find something else to talk about.
I really enjoyed this post, Deborah. So many people my age feel like their own narrative, their own version of the world, trumps everyone else’s. It reminded me of something I once read in a commencement address David Foster Wallace gave:
Here is just one example of the total wrongness of something I tend to be automatically sure of: everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute center of the universe; the realest, most vivid and important person in existence. We rarely think about this sort of natural, basic self-centeredness because it’s so socially repulsive. But it’s pretty much the same for all of us. It is our default setting, hard-wired into our boards at birth. Think about it: there is no experience you have had that you are not the absolute center of. The world as you experience it is there in front of YOU or behind YOU, to the left or right of YOU, on YOUR TV or YOUR monitor. And so on. Other people’s thoughts and feelings have to be communicated to you somehow, but your own are so immediate, urgent, real.
Good post, Deb! Lately I’ve been avoiding getting angry because there seems too much to be angry about and too many angry people around. I just can’t sustain all my other emotions when I’m consumed with anger and I’d much rather feel joy or sorrow or compassion or whatever. I need a clear mind and a relaxed feeling in my gut to make my work and stay open to that Slow Muse.
I’ve been out of town so I’m a bit slow thanking all of you for this collective wisdom. Every comment enriched my understanding. Di, Sally, baricks and Nancy, thank you for touching in on this complex and important topic. I feel wiser about this than I did when I wrote the post.