Frustration

I came home for the second day in a row to find that there are no parking spots in my parking lot. There are 8 apartments in this complex and 18 parking spots. I realize that some of these apartments house 2, maybe 3 people (or, hell, 5 - as when I lived with Greg and the boys), and that 1 car households are a thing of the past, but seriously? 18 parking spots. All filled. Or, rather, 16 or 17 filled and a couple of morons who couldn't park parallel to the lines if held at gun point. Anyway, I kinda lost it. Not publicly, but in my mind as usual. I just finished watching The Machinist, and for some reason, I think the film left me in a weird mood. Bleak landscapes and themes of neurosis and isolation, I suppose.

Anyway, various frustrations have been building for me for the past few months, and it feels like it's all coming to a boil. In a post on Facebook, I described the sensation as "walls of idiocy closing in on me - suffocating me". Life can be pretty roller-coastery. Sometimes it's a whip-lash inducing wooden ride that leaves you feeling bruised. Other times it's a death defying, fancy new ride that throws you for a lot of loops and dives. Other times it's a pretty tame, fun kiddie ride that's totally manageable. Hell, sometimes you're just sitting there for what feels like forever just waiting for the ride to start while some kid in the back's holding the whole shit up screaming, wanting to get out. Frequently, I can feel the tension building before it actually boils over, like the slow, upward clicking of the ride just before the fall. I know I've gotten myself into trouble and am just wondering whether it's too late to get my money back. Fortunately, the more rides I venture to endure, the better I get at stomaching the turns. I'm not quite at the point where I can carelessly throw my hands up and squeal with glee, but I'm also no longer the kid in the back frantically screaming to get off.

Rumi suggests that we have to recognize that we are already "living within the ocean", so there's no point in struggling to stay above the surface. The fact is, I'm on the ride. I won't be done until my last breath releases that big, metal harness from my shoulders and waste (please excuse the ridiculous extension of this metaphor). I can choose to panic; I can choose to feel stuck; I can also choose to accept my reality, throw my hands up and trust the ride. What's the worst I can encounter? Death? Well, yeah, that's an inevitable part of this ride - one of many parts over which I have no control.

After flipping my internal lid over having to park in the street yet again, I jotted down a list of my recent frustrations. I figured I could manage them better if I actually saw them on paper. I immediately marked off the ones I could clearly do nothing about or that needn't necessarily even concern me personally. That only rid me of a couple. I also immediately recognized that they were all external issues, except the final one: I feel stuck. So how does one go about "unslumping" oneself, as Dr. Seuss says? I took another look at the list and realized, with a little shift in perspective, that none of them need cause me much grief. You see, I have a tendency to give myself a heart attack over the behavior of others - other drivers, pedestrians, students, the entire department that employs me, etc. I think because I am forced to interact with these people on a daily basis, I cannot avoid being affected my their idiocy, inefficiency or intolerance. It may seem obvious that this is not the case, but when mindlessly running on automatic pilot, that reality never occurs to me. My immediate response to the idea of "acceptance" is that I am allowing such travesties to perpetuate. I am passively resigning to them and refusing to fight for what is good and right. What I am overlooking, however, is that the behavior of others is not within my realm of control. I cannot force my students to give a shit about their education, about their minds, about their worth as human beings. I can try to inspire them, to set an example, but I cannot affect them without their consent. I cannot force other drivers on the road to be more mindful, courteous and safe, nor can I force them to live their off-road lives in the same way.

In a nutshell, my default perception seems to be that "idiots shouldn't exist", "impediments shouldn't exist", "if everyone were more gracious and graceful, giving a shit about themselves and each other, communism wouldn't have failed". Apparently, I didn't lose all sense of idealism after the invasion of Iraq, as I thought I did. Somehow, it never occurs to me in these moments that the world is not now, nor ever was, comprised of brilliant, mindful communists with a high level of self-worth. Hell, if I don't fit this description, why should anyone else? The fact is, there are idiots in the world. Lots of them. There are lots of assholes, too. There are even some bigots and a sprinkling of sociopaths. That is the reality in which we all live. "Shoulds" are ultimately irrelevant. I am intrinsically aware of this. This is a realization I come to often. Yet I inevitably end up on that slow, clicking ascent toward doom wondering how I got here at least once a year, when all I have to do is see the ride for what it is, throw my hands up and trust my ability to take that fall with grace for my own sake and maybe even as a lesson for that screaming kid in the back.