To be struck by pride

I had just come back from driving some friends of mine who needed a ride to catch a ferry at four o’clock in the morning. The night before, another friend needed assistance getting to the hospital in the middle of the night, so I had not slept as I would argue one ought to sleep. I was tired and was going to get coffee before leaving again to go and train.

The clock was now around 05:30–06:00, and upon entering my usual coffee shop I met a person whom I know on a surface level who was working. The person had always appeared rude, but I had come to the conclusion that this was only a reflection of his natural temperament. Some people are, in appearance and speech, rather uninviting. With a low brow and a tone that echoes from the bottom of a well. This does not mean that they intend to meet another in this manner, but by no other choice do so nevertheless.

I addressed him and said that it was nice to see him, and in a typical way brought attention to the time of day and that he was working.

“Yes,” he answered shortly.

I tried to make further small talk and made a joke or two. But nothing landed. Eye contact was kept to a minimum, his movements were slow and without urgency.

“What is this guy’s problem?” I heard my thoughts say.

“Why does he act in such an impolite and disrespectful manner?”

I felt my own brows lower, and my own speech no longer arrived from the kindest of places as my tone grew lower and lower, until it sounded as deep as the horn of a freight ship docked at the harbour.

“Does he not realise what I have been up to? Does he not know the small amount of sleep I have had? Does he not realise the amount of money and time I have spent in this coffee shop?”

After I left, I was filled with anger. I felt neglected and mistreated. I felt that the things I had given to others had not been acknowledged. That after this long night, in the place where I spend so much of my time, I was met with nothing but nonchalance.

This is not only impolite. Not only unprofessional.

It is disrespectful to me.

As I walked, accompanied by Mars, and planned how to get the shop closed down and the person fired, I observed these expressions of my ego.

That which I deem to be me had determined that I deserved something that was not given to me.

That this person ought to have recognised not only my presence, but known my night, my past, my emotions, my expectations, my wants, and my needs.

And not only recognised them.

He ought to have fulfilled them for me.

In that moment this felt obvious.

Of course I ought to have received that which I deserved.

Which it always does.

Yes, the behaviour was rude and not fitting for the service industry. I think that is a fair claim.

However, the fact that this person is a person, and that I and my experience are entirely unknown to him, is equally true.

After my anger had settled, and I had given the emotion the attention it required, I entered meditation and directed my conscious being back toward the balance of the heart.

For another person can never know that which you deem to be real.

Just as you can never know that which they deem to be real.

Reality is an eternal mystery—a secret that you alone are permitted to know.

Never in the past, present, or future may that which you experience directly be experienced by anything other than you, other than reality itself.

No wonder there is confusion in life.

To navigate, in perceived isolation, the fabric of the universe.

One experience at a time.

How then could I demand something that cannot be done?

For another to know that which only I can know.

Is this not pride personified?

Is this not one of the greatest of errors—to demand ownership over that which is not yours to own?

Another person’s reality.

Well then.

Did the anger I felt have a rightful place?

Yes.

But not in the direction of the other person.

The anger—which is often the first emotional state of change and action—was calling me to give myself that which only I could give myself.

Rest.

Calm.

Peace.

Will I become a better man if I hold contempt toward another?

Will he become a better man?

Will the world prosper?

Will the flowers grow through my anger toward a man who does not know?

As the soul may only be filled by the soul, peace may only be established in the company of peace, just as kindness may only bloom in the company of kindness.

I may not change the attitude of another.

But I do possess the power to change the attitude of myself.

And may my wishes come true.

Let that bitter man’s heart open. And let me bear the wisdom and strength to help him do so.