"Excuse me." Much like the Indian use of the horn, it is sometimes directed to someone, sometimes a notice that I am here in space like sound bouncing so we know where we all are like bats or sharks in the ocean. I slide as gracefully as possible into the seat between two "normal" sized commuters (they did not cross the seat indentations into mine--a horror unto itself).
A man stands over me grumbling under his breath about girls and youth and who knows what else but I do catch his reference to my lapse in the use of "excuse me". This, apparently, I could not stand for. "I said 'excuse me'," I also mumble under my breath. We are here acting like the other isn't. This is how you ride in a car for thirty minutes with no AC and the lingering smell of puke and Chinese barbecue chicken over the screams of a baby in a stroller.
It could have ended there. We both could have had our moments of anger without penetrating the other's personal space (a relative term depending on the situation, but something New Yorkers will claim, name, and fight to the death for). I look up briefly from my Sudoku at the sound of the man's voice inches from my face. His mouth moves slowly like it is full of marbles. I see every bristle in his fisherman face. I can smell his angry little life and his desperation to yell at someone, anyone, just to get it out. Is he enjoying this? I suppose neither of us anticipated that I also have samskaras (in a nutshell, patterns of thoughts, actions, behaviors "inherited" from past lives or the past of this life) I'm working through.
"GET OUT OF MY FUCKING FACE!"
I don't yell it or scream it. It was that cold, calculated, venomous voice built up for all those times when I couldn't or didn't say what I wanted to say. He looked afraid. I was steaming. Of course we rode the subway side by side like this without saying a word for two more stops.
Sometimes you ruffle your wings and then feel better, but sometimes you ruffle them and the feathers keep getting more disorganized.
What else could have I told him to make him feel like shit?
What was going on with that poor guy that he needed to tell me that?
Why did I react that way?
Now that I have acted upon those samskaras and now that it doesn't feel as natural, will I be able to let them go?
So next time I do it differently.
As much as I am attached to the idea of transformation, those samskaras are attached to me.
Hi Elise
ReplyDeleteIt sounds to me like you were under control. You breathed, and let the negative energy pass but not make you lash out. Getting red in the face was unavoidable, but it did not go past that. And you sensed fear in the man's eyes.
It must be difficult to be riding the subway in this heat.
Today I almost passed out in a meeting room at a hotel that was not properly air conditioned. Many people were very angsty. Luckily we were able to open two windows and felt relief and listen to the presentation.
Cheers,
Arturo
You did exactly what I would have done. You sounded very in control, I wouldn't think twice about it. You acted out the best you could according your analysis of the situation. Guilt is self-inflicted. Don't go there.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Anon...
ReplyDeleteSometimes it takes being confronted (as in your response to the man) to shake one into awareness of their behavior. Maybe it gave him something to think about.
Would like to have heard his version of the story.
ReplyDeleteTomorrow is another chance to do things the way you want to do them. Right?
ReplyDeleteI'm sure he was pretty certain I was a bitch and a neanderthal. While I don't think it was okay for him to invade my personal space with the intent of intimidating me, my response could have been better. Or, at least, more effective. There could have been other ways to say it that made him feel like an asshole, but the kind that looks within to see how they ended up that way, rather than the asshole who sees everyone else as the problem. I doubt he was thinking compassionately about me and my response put up a wall that would be pretty hard for the average Joe to feel compelled to soften up to. But who knows. Perhaps he decided to reconnect with his long lost daughter as a result. :)
ReplyDeleteSpeaking of which yc, your "article" on the hp is going to do the nyc ashtanga community a real harm. You are a better writer than that. The whole thing sounds like you are bragging in an almost elitist fashion and its exactly people who think in that way who make me ashamed to even say I am devoted to ashtanga.
ReplyDeleteWas a prerequsite of the job require cattiness in writing style?