A Tiny Death

During rush hour, while running errands, I saw a flock of doves touch down on the street ahead of me. This is a chronically busy street, and doves are usually good with their timing.

"Flight" reductive drawing, charcoal on paper. © Quinn McDonald, 2008.

As I got closer, most of the doves flew across the street. One of them turned toward my speeding car and lifted off. I felt the thump under my car and winced.

It was a small death, unavoidable (slamming on my brakes would have caused an accident, no way I could change lanes) but sad.

When I came back from my first errand, a group of people stood in front of the car. The dove had flown directly into my grill, and was dead, but stuck. The small crowd took photos with their cell phones. They asked me what I was going to do. I asked for volunteers to remove the bird. The crowd dispersed quickly.

I felt sick. Over the death of a bird. I also could not bring myself to touch the firmly lodged bird in my grill. I finished errands and drove home. I could not bring myself to clear the bird from the grill. I’m pretty tough. I’ve come across some pretty messy auto accidents and stopped to help. I’ve broken bones in Taikwondo and continued to the end of the match. I’ve had pets run over and taken them to the vet. But this one small life, these fragile wings stopped in mid flight undid me.

I still don’t know why. I’m not exploring why. I called my car mechanic, who not only removed the bird, but didn’t charge me for doing it. Afterwards, I sat in the car and cried. I had the car washed.

Every day in my city, in every big city, people are made homeless, are shot, are falsely accused, are beaten, suffer and die. And I’m crying about a bird with a bad sense of direction.

At the end of every blog post, I try to write a summary, draw a conclusion, explain a lesson. Today there is none. Not that I can see or know. So there it is–just a vignette. Sometimes we don’t understand it all.

–Quinn McDonald is a writer and creativity coach. She doesn’t understand much, but that which she understands, she is sure of.

This, Too, Shall Pass

On a recent walk, I had an understanding. Maybe you have known it for a long time. I just got it, and thought it worth sharing.

Often, I’ve thought that anger, frustration, irritation, impatience, and similar emotions are bad. I want to experience joy, peace, living in the moment, and general goodwill.

Difficult times make me wonder what I did wrong to deserve them. And then I think, “Well, this, too, shall pass.” And eventually it does.

Here’s the understanding I had on the walk: All emotions are just that–emotions. They are neither good nor bad. Without sorrow, it would be impossible to understand joy. Without anger, it would be hard to work toward peace. We need it all, we need to experience it all, we need to live through it all to experience a whole life. Trying to get rid of a “bad” emotion is no better than clinging to a “good” emotion. That was the first part.

And what followed was this–those happy times? That fun? That peaceful moment? That, too, shall pass.

The passing of an emotion isn’t reserved for one kind of emotion, situation or event. It applies to all. The happy event will be over. The anger will fade. This, too, shall pass.

Letting Go to Be OK

Anne was in for a visit; she’s a DC resident, and was happy for our dry heat. . .except for the heat part. The pool seemed the answer to the triple digits. We were floating in the cool water when Anne said, “I’m trying to be a good person, but I’m angry.”

“What about?” I asked. Anne doesn’t get angry often. She told me a story about a slight that seemed to pile up on a precarious pile of patience and had toppled all her resolve.

“That seems a good reason be angry,” I said.

“Well, really good people don’t get angry, or if they do, they handle it better,” she said. I was a bit surprised at this news. I know a lot of people who aren’t handling anger all that well.”

“So what do you want to do?” I asked, curious.

“I want to get over anger faster.” Anne said. “I tell myself to get over it. I remember that The Secret says when I think negative thoughts, I’ll attract bad things into my life. That makes me worry, and then I get angry about being angry.”

I’ve never been a big believer in The Secret since I read the book and it seemed to miss the logic path and head into the ditch of materialistic consumerism. I wasn’t going to discuss it with Anne now.

“Suppose you spend that time being OK with being angry. Not justifying why you are angry, just being OK with the fact that you are angry. Anger is a legitimate emotion, sometimes necessary to solve injustice. It’s what you do with your anger that is important, isn’t it?” I asked Anne.

“I’m still angry and then I get angry that I can’t move on,” Anne said. I understood that. If you turn on a timer and demand of yourself not to think of 100 white horses, they will prance through your mind until the timer rings.

“How about if you tell yourself you are OK with being angry, that there was a reason for it at the time, and start to wonder what’s next? That checks the anger off the list, and lets you wonder about an action instead of focusing on your emotion? Beating yourself up for being angry doesn’t seem to help get rid of it.”

Anne was doubtful. “What if I start thinking about getting even with the person who made me angry?”

“That’s another step. That’s a choice. But first, be OK with anger. Or frustration. Or not knowing. Once we allow ourselves to have negative emotions, they have a tendency to lose importance. Brooding over our lack of charity doesn’t leave much room in our heads except brooding.”

Anne was cheering,”So I can spend some time being angry, and then decide what to do?”

“Sure, ” I said. “First, give yourself permission to be angry. Don’t punish yourself or beat yourself up for having an emotion. When the emotion is acknowledged, it falls into proportion. Then you can decide what to do. You can measure what needs to be done and what the consequences will be. You can weigh your action with the consequence and make a choice. But it starts with being OK with emotions, even strong ones.”

“So if I feel angry, and am OK with that, how long does it take to get over it?” Anne said.

“I don’t know. It depends on what you are angry about, and how angry you are. But the more you beat yourself up over the emotion itself, the more contorted your reaction is going to be.”

Anne floated on her back in the pool, slowly paddling toward her drink in the shade.
“Being OK and letting go doesn’t sound easy, though,” she said.

“Letting go anything that jacks up our adrenaline is hard,” I admitted. But it’s the whole idea about being in the moment, and non-attachment. It’s recognizing what isn’t working and being OK with it’s not-workingness, and not attaching more importance to it.”

“In that case,” Anne said, “I want to attach importance to supper.” And we did.

--Quinn McDonald is a writer and a life- and certified creativity coach. She teaches life skills and writing.