On irritation

In line with my earlier obsession about the seven deadly sins, I thought it might be cool to entitle this: on anger, but I only occasionally erupt into wrath. Mostly, I get irritated and kvetch.

Some quotes from John Climacus (c. 579-649):

Meekness is a permanent condition of that soul which remains unaffected by whether or not it is spoken well of, whether or not it is honored or praised. The first step toward freedom from anger is to keep the lips silent when the heart is stirred; the next, to keep thoughts silent when the soul is upset; the last, to be totally calm when unclean winds are blowing.

Some people (I hold a slightly different view), believe that thoughts (or beliefs) precede emotions, which then precede actions. In my case, the thought and the feeling exist virtually simultaneously.  Whether this is true or no, John of the Ladder says that the wrong actions can be prevented by intentional actions: keeping silence, controlling thoughts & finally inner peace. Like many early Christians, he believes character traits like anger, sloth, lust, &c. are either literal demons or at least actuated by them. Some modern-day Christians believe the same. We now know, progress having been made, that thoughts are the result of biochemical processes in the brain. I'm not sure what the difference is; to the average person thought-forms and chemical states are a distinction not readily obtained. We still talk of seizures, heart attacks, being under the influence (of which star?), etc.

In my case, preventing a spark is easier than dealing with the necessity of a lengthy apology/reparation program. Stinking thinking goeth before a fall, especially when one is dealing with long-term relationships.

Irascibility is an untimely flaring up of the heart [...] Anger is an easily changed movement of one's disposition, a disfigurement of the soul. Just as darkness retreats before light, so all anger and bitterness disappears before the fragrance of humility.

Humility is a useful trait to have. There are several aspects to humility, but I probably won't express them well, so I crave your pardon in advance.

There is outward humility (not the same as humiliation). We are all familiar with people of humble origins, in humble circumstance, where life has dealt with them harshly and they have few resources. We see people in this circumstance in most inner cities. They are not necessarily humble people, but are poor (in one way or another) and this makes them, well, humble. They may be proud as peacocks on the inside, and prickly too, but they are of modest circumstances and have little political power. You never hear a politician talking about his homeless constituency, for
instance.

Inner humility also has several aspects. Humility toward others, inwardly, is the trait most people think of in this connection. These sort of humble people don't think too highly of themselves. They often give up privileged positions. This is the kind of humble people think they are supposed to aspire to.

Finally is humility toward yourself and those in your intimate circles. I'm going to confess that I am often more polite, more courteous, toward people I know less well than I am to people in my own household. I treat (and am treated, I suspect) my intimates better when in public, also. This is a good reason for getting out or perhaps, instead, I should pretend that I am in public all the time. Hurm.

Irritability/anger are inversely proportional to humility. I have striven to have more humility and perhaps it is bearing fruit. I've run out of time and attention. I'll speak more of this anon.

On compassion, acceptance, & the first step.

The sermon today was only partly about Mother's day. Nor was it only about Julian of Norwich (whose day it had been this week) & Christ our mother (a theme in her work). No, it was about how we are worthy because we are accepted by God & not accepted because we are worthy. God doesn't condemn us and therefore we should not condemn ourselves or others. All will be well.

A blog I read recently was about the Zen-like property of compassion. We reduce the world's suffering both by relieving our own & by reducing that of others by example. Others see us reduce our suffering and learn that there is a better way; they are encouraged. We share with them that we suffer also (I did this today) and that there is hope. It is heartening to suffer with someone & then work your (both of you) ways through it.

I am reading St John Climachus' the Ladder of Divine Descent, to which the step refers. I cannot begin to do the book justice. A few quotes will have to suffice...

"Violence & unbending pain are the lot of those who aim to ascend to heaven with the body, and this especially at the early stages of the enterprise, when our pleasure-loving disposition and our unfeeling hearts must travel through overwhelming grief toward the love of God and holiness. It is hard, truly hard."

Elsewhere he compares the process like going through surgery (back then--no anesthetic).

"When the soul betrays itself, when that initial happy warmth grows cold, the reasons for such a loss ought to be carefully sought and, once found, ought to be combated with all possible zeal, for the initial fervor has to turn back through the same gate through which it had slipped away."

There are three types of monks: spiritual athletes, those who share a life of styles with one or two others, and those who live in community. It's not for everyone. One should find circumstances & method that suit them.

Just a few things I encounters on this day. One last thing: to love your neighbor as yourself in any meaning sense, you must love yourself.

Procrastination is its own reward

Yesterday, I learned something of why I procrastinate--the object is hard in some way. A few examples...

 

I have numerous honey-doos (clean/clear the driveway, remove a closet, replace some outlets, refinish the kitchen walls, etc.) requiring my attention. I have been most industrious in working on them, too. A combination of Jonah & Niggle (as in Leaf by Niggle by Tolkien). I have installed a project manager (plan by Ubuntu, I think).

 

This program allows you to analyze the fsck out of the project, but I found myself being endlessly and almost recursively reductionistic. I had the task, the subtask, the resource, the assignee. I never actually worked on the project, though. Program too complex. Too simple was Astrid, for the Android.  A to do program, it is great for small recurring reminders like clean the bathroom, vacuum, & the like, but no subtasks. Trello is better.

This program allows collaboratively assigning tasks to "boards" & you can put checklists on it & assign tasks. It has couple potential for mutual projects like working on finances, a family trust, or any project requiring cooperation.

 

I got closest to, instead of just thinking about the project, to actually working on it. I have two in mind now, clearing the outside (more details in a minute) & taking down the closet in the corner of our office. But it took the intervention of my wife to make it happen.

 

I am not what you would call a physical worker.  I love talking pictures & sharing them online.  I love working on the church website. I don't like using a shovel. To make a long story longer, I need to supply some details...

We have some holes in our backyard & a pile of dirt in our driveway. The only point of access: a door too narrow for a wheelbarrow, which requires me to carry buckets, two at a time. You know how much that weighs? Neither do I. It seemed to be as heavy as the earth. Bad joke...

 

I worked for an hour. A long, agonizing hour. Putting the dirt into the buckets was easy. Dumping them out was easy. Carrying them through the garage (sideways, part of the way) & into the backyard was not.

 

I am woefully out of shape. Suspect I have a lot more manual labor in store. Good thing lawnmowers have wheels.

More on acedia

What I experience as acedia is a multifaceted phenomenon.

Today, I experienced this inner resistance as a burning feeling, an inflammation, in my knees & hip joints. Tilting my head back in apparent exasperation is a sign to me that I need a red pill (decongestant). Perhaps I am experiencing a purely physical phenomenon and not psychic resistance to cleaning the kitchen.

Now that I write this on my smartphone, lying (or laying?) on my bed, I no longer experience those sensations.  True, I have taken passion meds and am no longer on my feet. I am also no longer in the kitchen. In a few minutes, I will either do some light reading (a book on "the quieter virtues") or revise the (Anglican) rosary I completed last night.

No matter how much I do in the kitchen (my Sisyphean labor), I am not satisfied. I feel like I "pull a fast one", that I am not doing it according to spec--that I am cheating by only cleaning the cabinets & having someone else unload the dishwasher.  I tell myself that I'll steam mop the floor tomorrow, that I'll load the dishwasher tomorrow morning.

After all, like the Evagriab monk who realizes, conveniently, that he doesn't have to remain in his cell, doing his monkly duty, to serve God--that He is not restricted to place or time, I don't have to do everything tonight, do I? After all, I burn with inflammation. 

Some days, the bear gets you.

Guns, civility, and community

Guns.

The Rt. Rev. Edward J. Konieczny, Bishop of Oklahoma (Episcopal), who is a former police officer, wrote in the Thin Line between God & Guns:

"We need a reasoned conversation about existing privacy laws that protect the mentally ill but too often fail to protect our law enforcement officers and our citizens. We need conversations about movies and video games that desensitize our children to the effects of violence. We need conversations about loopholes in the laws that allow the sale of weapons at gun shows and by private dealers without proper background checks."

The Bishop gets it. But we don't just need gun control, we need a comprehensive dialogue about violence. But it isn't just the mentally ill who use guns inappropriately. Guns are used to criminals, by people in alienated relationships, in drive by shootings, and in other incidents. 

Contrary to what an otherwise sane mental health practitioner told me, violence is not a symptom of mental illness. Adam Lanza to the contrary, the mentally ill are more likely to be victims. They just don't make the news. 

Neither can they be easily detected nor confined "non-punitivly" to facilities & told "you will take your meds". While it may be true that we could free up resources by reforming our drug laws (decriminalize marijuana), the prison industry has a powerful lobby. Also, there is no royal road to mental health. Also, there we have the presumption of innocence in this country. Take away my rights--yes, I have a mental illness--and they can take away yours.

One thing the Bishop talked about in a recent panel at Trinity Episcopal Church this past Sunday was how we need less distrust of each other. We need better community. We need a dialogue on guns and violence. We also need civility.  Heinlein said that rudeness is a sign of a collapsing civilization--ours. He's right. 

I am part of one of the most civil Internet communities--the Gunroom (devoted to, among other topics, the works of Patrick O'Brian). While we shy away from religion and politics, it is necessary to discuss them--albeit not there. 

We need to discuss the causes of violence: poverty, disenfranchisement, incivility, cats (just checking to see if you were still there), and whether we are good stewards of what we are borrowing from those who come after us. The rich need to help the poor by more than throwing money at them. See the earlier episode about giving.

What is civility? Politeness and the small courtesies are just a start, though a good one. What is the answer? I don't know. Let's talk about it.

Give til it feels

Why do we give?

Incident #1

On the road, which is where we seem to encounter the Trickster most (see Hermes). I am approached by a attractive, middle-class-looking man who stumbles over his "pitch". He claims (I don't hear the details) that he has had his possessions stolen from the back of his pickup. The fact that it took him a few minutes to get to the point (asking for money) lends verisimilitude to his approach. Much to my wife's annoyance, I gave him a small percentage of what he was asking for ($5). I rarely give money, not having all that much, but that doesn't soothe my wife, when she finds it necessary to balance to the penny.


Incident #2

I need to go downtown to Home Depot to get banister hardware for the rental house across town. At the last minute, I decide to take the turnpike. I stop at the Kum & Go (a real place) to get a soda (another pet peeve of my wife).

This Indian man asks if I can give him a ride to Tulsa. Turns out he's Oglala Sioux with long pig-tails and a gap-toothed grin. I tell him 'm going downtown; he offers to pay for the ride, but I tell him he doesn't have to. I don't give rides, mostly. I question my judgement as he gets in my truck.

On the way to our destination, he tells me that he's been visiting his son in Stroud, who is incarcerated in a juvenile detention center. He's 14 and been sneaking out of his mom's house to go get in trouble. Many Native kids in his age-group are addicted to meth, the scourge of our state. My passenger is trying to get custody--his mother doesn't want to deal with him any longer and complicating the issue is that she is a different tribe.

I drop my passenger off at his apartment complex (Christ says that if you are pressed for a mile, go two). I tell him I'll pray for his them. The really interesting bit is that this man was "praying to Holy Spirit" for a ride because he was tired, having walked from Stroud. Then I show up. Enough to make you believe in God. 

Analysis:  

The first incident involved money and had a negative feeling--I felt awkward/embarrassed.  I suspect that is one of the feelings that made the Levites etc. (in the Good Samaritan parable) pass the possibly dead man.

The second made me and my wife feel good. 

The only difference, aside from the skill of the recipient (after all, there may have been no 14 year old), was that the second was slightly more inconvenient. Time is money, my wife's attitude toward money notwithstanding. Is $5 equivalent to how long it takes in gas and time to got from the interstate to an apartment complex?

No, I think the feeling is emotion (aside from whether the guy needed $5). The first guy probably had a bad delivery because he was ashamed. The next guy who asks for money will get a blessing instead of cash, of which I have too little. St Peter said something similar somewhere.

In which our hero develops his theme

Acedia (or sloth) is numbered among the seven (or eight) Deadly Sins. There really are eight, but one (pride) is considered the root of them all. Those interested the history of their development should read Evagrius of Pontus, Cassian, Gregory the Great, & Thomas Aquinas. I also recommend Glittering Vices by Rebecca Konydyk DeYoung, associate philosopher of philosophy at Calvin College.

Far from being a minor vice--after all, if it was the original sin, we'd still be in Paradise--acedia is the resistance to God's love. It is this inner quality that exhausts its victim and makes them appear lazy. In actuality, like the clinically depressed, she spends so much time and energy in this process (deliberately so, because they'd rather fight than switch) that there is none for action. The true vice is this resistance. Habitués of Sloth can appear to be very busy, but this is a "false busyness". He is frantically running away from God.

To quote Evagrius, the demon of acedia affects the monk about 10 AM and besieges his soul until 2 PM. The demon makes the sun appear to crawl across the sky. Those four hours take forever to pass. The monk is restless, looking outside to see if it is 3 PM yet--quitting time. He develops a dislike for his cell and for his companions. Any call center employee can relate.

"He leads him on to a desire for other places where he can easily find the wherewithal to meet his needs [and pursue a trade elsewhere. After all, pleasing the Lord is not a question of locality.]"--Praktikos

Quoting DeYoung, the Greek word (a-kedeia) means "lack of care". (I'm not sure whether care here means attention or apathy. If I cared enough to pay attention, I'd google.) A grave spiritual malady, it manifests as dejection or a sense of oppressiveness. The vice is serious, powerful and threatens one's commitment to religious identity and vocation. One's entire commitment to life in God is at stake. It is that deadly.

In Steven Pressfield's the War of Art, Resistance--with a capital R--threatens any time someone attempts anything from a spiritual discipline to great art. Whether you actually produce anything saleable or not, any time you put brush to canvas, you've beaten Resistance.

How this vice affects me: domesticity. If you don't believe keeping a house is a spiritual discipline (actually, everything is), you haven't tried it. The only time cleaning is joyous is either 1) you have a true vocation for it or 2) you are trying to write a novel and are blocked. I'm not sure which way Resistance wins in that instance, but there it is. Certain household tasks (in fact, anything practical) overwhelm me. Learned helplessness or letting my illness (mood/thought disorder) run over me. 

During these events and the marital discord that results (we are perennially broke, in part because we both subsist from rental property income and Social Security), I feel that God has abandoned me to my fate. In those moments, prayer is futile. Christ is absent. Now, I know about the Dark Night of the Soul and all, but I am not so egotistical as to believe that is what is happening. Someone once complained that God doesn't treat his friends very well.

Maybe this blog will help you, Dear Reader. If it does that, then this is not mere self-reflection, mere enthusiasm.