Electric Fences, pigs and the shocks in life

I had walked along the seafront in Rhodes on my way to tutor a student who lived a good fifty minutes from where I lived.  Not only that, but the last 30 mins were up a very steep hill that made the heart speed up.  To add insult to injury just halfway into my walk I tripped over an uneven paving stone and twisted my ankle.   Lying in a crumpled heap a passing good-natured group of young tourists lifted me up and carried me to a nearby bench.  Their support was really appreciated but after they left I realised that I would have to continue on my way to work.  Strangely after 15 minutes of walking gingerly, the severe pain in my ankle had subsided to only an ache and I could even manage the final steep climb.  

My student lived in a wealthy area on a ridge above the town.  As you get higher up the hill the houses grow in size and opulence.  Swimming pools grow large and the villas spread out over more land and gardens.  My student’s house even has a security gate at the front and gaining access involved endless buzzers and video doorbells on both the outer garden wall entrance and front door.  My lesson took place in a huge living room that held four complete sets of armchairs and sofas in different positions scattered across the thick piled carpet.  Their housekeeper asks us if we want coffee/tea and a snack.  My student is a sulky teenager and he demands a toasted sandwich with an expresso coffee. I say “nothing, thanks”.  Having never had servants I resent this middle-aged Asian woman having to take orders from this bad-tempered teen.  It makes me want to smack him.

Totally unfair I know but, on a day, when I have had to walk with a sore ankle up steep hills to work for obscenely rich people in their penthouse villa with a massive pool my mental irritation seems to trump my physical discomfort.  His younger brother is watching a video, on a massive screen the size of a wall, of killer whales attacking a seal on an ice flow.  

It shocks me that so often rich people’s kids are often so unhappy and resentful.  It shouldn’t, so many things are given to them that the excess seems to have leeched all happiness out of their veins.  It is as if having so much feeds a growing desire to have much more and they perversely feel deprived constantly.  I have observed it in many cultures and this teenager’s constant whining and complaining was not a surprise to me.  Neither was his parent’s constant guilt towards him.  This too I had come across often.  His mother treated her sixteen-year-old with exaggerated care and concern handling him like an unexploded ordinance.   It was of immense satisfaction for me to give these spoilt teenagers a different sort of treatment from what they usually expected.  

In my experience, a parent's guilt acts as rocket fuel for self-pity in teenagers.  I apply the foam extinguisher of ‘not giving a rat’s ass’ and follow it up with the electric fence of high expectations.  During our hour together, I make him work his socks off, and however hard he applies himself I radiate disappointment that he is far below the standard I expect of him.  Such students are so unused to this treatment they try all kinds of distraction/coping strategies.  Whatever they come up with it is vital to keep one’s own composure and to quickly rip off whatever protection they try and apply.  In my experience the faster you react the less chance they have to feel secure about the whole interaction. In fact, keeping such students off balance is exactly what keeps the lesson on track.  

I’m sure there are more knowledgeable ways to make this situation work but my method has the advantage that I quite enjoy their discomfort and lack of control.  It helps that I had only brothers growing up and have three sons of my own and each and every one of them had brains to burn as they say.  Such exposure makes you learn to be pragmatic and to focus only on what is effective in such interactions.  

As a father of a friend of mine said during a speech at his son’s wedding, “You all know Christopher!  He met Yolanda at primary school and decided within a week that she was the one he would marry.  We made him wait until he finished secondary school but you all know Christopher, trying to get him to change his direction is like trying to turn a pig at a gate!”  The farming audience howled in laughter, most having faced many a stubborn pig in their days.  My grandfather reared pigs and I knew all about them having been chased down lanes by his monsters many times.  Trying to get a pig not to go through an open gate was impossible.  My grandfather’s solution was to use electric fences and these usually did the job. However, he had one very bad-tempered boar that just got furious at the shocks from the electric fence and demolished both it and the gate behind it.  

My childhood was full of electric shocks.  When I was a child my grandfather would ask me to take a metal bucket from him in the field and have his hand, behind his back, on the live electric fence.  I would instantly feel the painful shock of electricity blast through me.  He was clever to use other methods to distract me and I remember having to learn to outthink him to avoid getting such shocks.  Years later I remember visiting the farm to find my elderly grandfather in an armchair, no longer so mobile. I introduced my eldest 3-year-old son to him.  My grandfather greeted him warmly and then hauled out his false teeth and set them dramatically on the small table in front of him.  My son ran howling in fear from the room and refused to even enter the room again.  I found myself amused, Granda hadn’t changed and we all just learned to accept the funny unique style of this guy.  My sons would have to learn that lesson too.  They all grew to love him as much as we did. Life takes all of us by surprise at times but it sure helps to learn a bit of robustness early on.  It makes everything else that follows a little easier.

I found when I left the villa my ankle was in agony, being seated had allowed time for the thing to swell.  I limped down the steep hill in front of plush gardens and huge cars to the nearest bus stop.  By the time I got there, I wanted to cry with the pain but sat on the seats in front of the bus stop relieved to be sitting at least.  There were two benches and on the other bench further up the street sat a young school girl with her school bag on the ground in front of her. 

A group of youths appeared pushing and shoving each other and shouting at the bus stop.  They had drinks and became louder and more noticeable.  When would this darn bus come, I thought? One of the youths approached the schoolgirl and started laughing putting his face down close to hers.  She backed away into the seat and he immediately picked up her school bag and tossed it to one of his friends.  Her distress was clear but they were having a great time tossing it between them and laughing.  She didn’t try and get her bag back, she just sat very still.  

Another boy sauntered over and sat down beside her and put his arm along the back of the bench behind her shoulder.  She moved along the bench away from him and there was a chorus of laughter from his mates who were holding out her bag asking her to come and get it.  I was tired and I was in pain but I had had enough.  I limped over to the other bench and sat in the space between the boy and the young girl.  Then, I took my shoe and sock off to inspect the damage I’d done to my ankle. It was hugely swollen and a very odd colour indeed.  I told the boy to move and put my ankle on the bench where he had been sitting.  Just having it elevated brought huge relief.  Now, I just had to worry about getting the sock and shoe back on if the bus came.  

My presence had ruined the gang’s fun and there was an embarrassing moment where they looked at the girl and then at my ankle and then at each other.  One brought her schoolbag reluctantly and dropped it at her feet before drifting back to his mates.  The schoolgirl lifted her bag and hugged it to herself in relief. Nothing was said, nothing needed to be.  Sometimes actions speak louder than words.  In my mind, I remembered my grandfather’s electric fences, his stubborn pigs, and the effectiveness of a bit of a shock in changing perspectives.  

These difficult days will pass and all we will remember is how we responded to such tests

 Dear Son,

You asked me some questions last night that really made me think. I’m not sure of the answers but I wanted you to know what I think and why. Then, at least you can make your own decisions in the light of that. Please don’t see this as advice. I wouldn’t presume. But I do care too deeply for you not to respond when you ask.

People do take advantage of other's kindness. Sometimes through thoughtlessness, sometimes because of their own agenda and occasionally because they’re not used to it. Every time it hurts. Especially when you do something in a spirit of kindness and others respond with disdain or just more expectations. They can even respond with anger as if you offered them a smack instead of the hand of friendship. Life is too short to examine all these responses and to understand the why of it. Better by far to move on.

If you are pulling people out of a bad place keep going. Don’t stop to argue with someone who resents that you did them a good turn. Whether they feel small, embarrassed, self-preoccupied, angry or frustrated is neither here nor there. If you did good, it is because it is in you to do so. Don’t expect it in others. They may not have it in their own lives and so cannot give it to others.

Life passes so quickly and good nature can easily be broken on the backs of mean spirits. So, don’t linger. Don’t be taken advantage of, just move on. Everyone you meet will teach you something, if only not to past too near again!

Then there are the tyrants. Those twisted so much that your kindness is not just wasted on them it is bad for them. Kindness to such types empowers and enables them to do even more damage. We have a responsibility not to reward their acts of abuse because the next one they torment needs you to stand firm. You must have the courage, in such circumstances, to hold the line like the 300 Spartans of old. You do this not out of dislike of them but because you know that giving in to a tyrant will merely perpetuate the abuse. At such times I think of all the victims of abuse I have known. Do you remember young George flinching at our table from the sound of a banging van door? In the face of such abuse, I steel myself to screw up my courage within me. What can we do? We are nothing really but, whatever it is we are capable of being at that moment, we must strive to be that. Because on the backs of tiny pebbles the great sea waves crash! We are such pebbles and despite the power of the waves, we remain. Know that long after they have smashed and raged and broken we will remain. We were created to bear and endure. Let them do their worst because we need to focus on doing our very best.

Let’s not be distracted by their activities. We have deeds to do, mighty deeds. Time is short, too short. Life passes by so quickly and the only things we will remember are all those who we love or who loved us. Grab such souls to you. Remember their sweetness and steady your stance. The hordes are coming. Stand fast, dear heart. There is no one I’d rather have at my side in the face of injustice. You have a keen poet’s eye and see to the real heart of things. Trust in such vision, believe the courage that lies within and search for truth always.

These difficult days will pass and all we will remember is how we responded to such tests.  That will be either our lasting regret or our legacy.  Know the importance of such choices.

Thanks for asking, for talking and for being you.

“It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”

-->

Deeper than happiness, joy springs from mysterious sources. Not sudden rain bursts of glee. Nor mere gladness because of calm waters. It is fuelled instead from clean, deep unpolluted wells that are blemish-free. That run with cleansing channels to fertile lands. Growing deeds as crops. Its unseen abundance is fenced by detachment. Joy bubbles up despite hardship, often due to hard lessons learnt. The deeper the plough cuts the greater the harvest.

Seneca (4 BC-65 AD) the ancient stoic philosopher was sentenced to commit suicide by the emperor Caligula, who resented Seneca’s eloquence in the Senate. Seneca only survived because he was seriously ill and Caligula thought that he would soon die anyway.  The next emperor Claudius exiled Seneca for many years to the island of Corsica.  Nero, the subsequent emperor, was tutored in his childhood by Seneca but later turned on his old tutor and sentenced him to death.  Seneca had certainly experienced the hardships that tribulations bring.  He would have agreed with the words of Epictetus, a later stoic who urged vigilance in life by pointing out:

“It’s much easier for a mariner to wreck his ship than it is for him to keep it sailing safely; all he has to do is head a little more upwind and disaster is instantaneous. In fact, he does not have to do anything: A momentary loss of attention will produce the same result.”

Seneca, much earlier in his life, had already spoken to others on misfortune.  He had pointed out that one should not see apparent misfortunes as genuinely bad. He lectured that in some ways they should be welcomed as they can benefit us. He felt that a good person should treat all adversity as a training exercise.  In fact, he drew an analogy with a wrestler who only benefits from taking on tough opponents and who would gradually lose his skill if he only ever faced weaker challengers. Seneca felt that we only show our own skills when we face a real adversary.  Adversity, he felt, works in a similar way: it lets us display our virtues and it trains them so that we can improve. He suggested that adversity should be welcomed when it came. In a similar vein, he pointed out that a general will only send his best soldiers into the most difficult battles. He felt that God will send the toughest challenges only to the most worthy individuals. Experiencing adversity then is a mark of having a virtuous character. He asked the question that if we are never tested would we ever develop virtues of patience courage and resilience? Seneca pointed out that unlimited luxury and wealth would serve to make a person lazy, complacent, ungrateful and greedy for more.

After a lifetime of giving lectures on detachment he consoled his companions as his own painful death was endured. He reminded his listeners of Socrates’ (470 BC – 399 BC) approach to death. If life was so valuable, he pointed out, why would Socrates, the greatest philosopher, treat it with such dismissal. Socrates had been occupied with the search for moral virtues and was sentenced to death by drinking hemlock.  Socrates' fearless humour was demonstrated when during his trial he was asked what his punishment should be and responded that a wage from the government and free dinners for the rest of his life would suffice!

It’s not that life is unimportant but to live an uninvested life seems the worst torment. If unexpected death can be viewed as a kindly gardener moving a tender plant to a more fertile land then a waste of life can both be likened to a worthless weed. A weed that has grown out of sight of the gardener’s care, strangling younger seedlings and denying them light or substance. Such weeds will gain their recompense at the final harvest. But what gardener does not despair at their wanton destruction. The question then remains how do we flourish and progress fully in life?

Marcus Aurelius (121 – 180 AD), a stoic emperor wrote with insight;

“Make a habit of regularly observing the universal process of change; be insidious in your attention to it, and school yourself thoroughly in this branch of study; there is nothing more elevating to the mind. For when a man realizes that at any moment he may have to leave everything behind him and part from the company of his fellows, he casts off the body and thenceforward dedicates himself wholly to the service of justice in his personal actions and compliance with Nature in all else. No thought is wasted on what others may say or think of him or practise against him; two things alone suffice him, justice in his daily dealings and contentment with all fate’s apportionings.”

So sometimes when hardship or loss strikes, the lessons it brings can prune and strengthen growth.  But if we instead, flower with easy abundance, grow in wealth and glory while seeing others around us wither and suffer then, perhaps the Divine Gardener does not transplant with love but views us with startled disdain.

All that growth and show, just wasted space. If our good deeds here plant seeds in the next world, what scene of devastation awaits those who have abused and brought destruction to others. Better by far to face atonement here than face the divine Gardner with no penance paid, full of selfish satisfaction and a wasted, wasteful life to offer. While others roughly treated here may find more forgiving climes and receive tender divine care from the source of love.

Marcus Aurelius had clear opinions on what we should and should not fear in this life.  It is surprising but to the point.

-->

“It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”

Being There

There are moments when you’re called upon to undertake some deed. Many times, you may feel overwhelmed by your own inadequacies as you take up your position on the battlefield of life. 

I recall when six months pregnant being summoned to look after a lovely relative who had had a stroke while living in the south of England. Flying from Northern Ireland to the UK I managed to fill all six sick bags across the entire row of seats at the back of the plane.  I’ve never been sure why my pregnant self decided to be so sick. Even during morning sickness, much earlier in the pregnancy, my body had felt nauseous but had refused to regurgitate valuable food. In fact, in all cases of food poisoning in our family, usually the result of a takeaway, my constitution was like that of my dad’s.  While the rest of my sickened family cleared out their systems by one end or the other (i.e. vomiting or diarrhoea), our systems perversely decided our bodies could handle the toxicity and extract some useful nutrition from the poison we had ingested.  To this day I have no idea why my stomach decided on performing like something from The Exorcist but I still remember the horrified expressions of my fellow passengers fighting to provide me with enough bags to contain the huge quantities of carrot coloured lumpy porridge I projected.

I was also well aware of being under-qualified for the task ahead which would involve caring, cooking and moderate housekeeping. I decided to camouflage my deficiencies by faking proficiency in these areas.  This strategy consisted of

1.    Turning the vacuum cleaner on for half an hour a day so that my relative, who was bedridden, would be comforted by the evident housecleaning going on below. I must confess I did not move the vacuum cleaner just turned it on daily, downstairs. In my defence when I started this practice there was a definite improvement in my patient’s demeanour who seemed disproportionately happier and more grateful.

2.     My tasteless meals were presented as being lighter on the stomach and easier to digest. In fact, my farola (finely-milled semolina) pudding dish became a staple favourite as my relative mentioned she had never been served this their entire life. Either that or she was too polite to complain about the food served. Come to think of it that seems much more likely explanation.

3.     My sweet relative knew that other family members around the world were worried to death about her. So, a daily task of mine was writing letters to distant relatives and friends. She would dictate and I would write and subsequently post these missives. She would insist on praising my housekeeping skills, my cooking and my kindness in every letter sent. As she had relatives in almost every continent I felt at times I was undertaking a one-woman self-promotion of sainthood campaign.  At times there I would blush in embarrassment as I wrote my own praises. But even this letter writing seemed to bring the patient pleasure and the avalanche of responses that arrived in the following days and weeks brought welcome messages of love and concern that were sustaining as regular blood transfusions for my patient.

Thankfully she made a full recovery. Eventually, I confessed my vacuuming trick. When she regained mobility, I had to!  She spent the next month trying to tidy and clean her house and find where I had put stuff in her kitchen. These activities I told myself also speeded her long-term recovery.

She was always very grateful and thankful for my presence during her illness and the lesson learned for me was, even when poorly prepared and totally inadequate, just showing up on the battlefield wins you a medal of sorts. Sometimes it’s not about your abilities but about being there for others.  I can look back now and wish I had been more effective and useful but her sweet response to my incompetence taught me so much.  If we stop wasting time thinking about our inadequacies we can probably achieve so much more.

“Let no excessive self-criticism or any feelings of inadequacy, inability or inexperience hinder you …..”

 Riḍván Message 152, Universal House of Justice