I woke up this morning to the sound of birds singing and I didn’t like it. Rising from bed I went to the bathroom and looked out the window to see the sun shining on the horizon in a perfectly clear blue sky. I saw the daffodils sprouting on the lawn and squirrels chasing each other with a playful, procreative impulse. The depressing feeling persisted and deepened.
Standing in the shower I began thinking about a person I don’t like. He’s so full of himself, I was thinking, such a big ego, boasting incessantly about what and who he knows, bragging about his humility. I could barely feel the hot water pouring over my body as these thoughts led to complaints about other things.
I could see the complaining happening and I had a vague sense that I should somehow struggle against it and try to be present, but I forgot this impulse when new objects of ire popped up as if there was a voice inside yelling, “And another thing…!”
Washed and dressed, I went downstairs to make coffee. My wife was in the kitchen and, giving way to one of the fixations that had been building steam in the shower, I criticized the way she was handling an issue having to do with one of our children. She nodded in a kindly way, gave a brief, neutral explanation of her approach and changed the subject. Her clean response provided a mirror which, to her credit, remained intact under the buffet of my criticism.
I felt sad and empty. The bright, beautiful spring day was in stark contrast to my weakness, lack of creativity, and general malaise. It seemed to mock me in presenting an occasion to which I could not rise.
In this moment of relative clarity, I remembered an admonition for practice which says, “Like what it doesn’t like.” With this in mind I took my coffee outside and stood in the sun. Little by little, its radiance penetrated the crust of my associations. I reflected on the ubiquity of my negative thoughts and could see that they are not only useless, but actually destructive. Perhaps I could simply let them go but the whining complaints and criticisms arise with a compelling arsenal of justifications and reasons.
In the political arena, I stand in judgement of the many stupid and ignorant people who don’t share my opinions. We are all spectators in the same stadium but they are rooting for the other team and I despise them for it. I’m not interested in how they have come to be so deluded as to not share my sensibility. I wouldn’t humiliate myself by inspecting their stupid and ignorant sources of information. I even have a secret fear that reading their news channel would somehow, like a vector of contagion, make me ill and poison my mind.
In my personal life, I see how this liking and disliking of people leads to a narrow and limited band of experience. With someone I don’t like, I’ll quickly send their call to voicemail or cross the street to avoid running into them. I’ll talk to the few people I like at a party and steadfastly avoid everyone else. I stand in judgement of other people’s haircuts, clothes, opinions, and manner of expressing themselves. I particularly dislike people that fail to acknowledge my importance, don’t notice me, or express insulting insinuations.
When the negativity of judgement of others and fear of existential danger abates for a moment I feel empty and bereft. Instinctively I pick up my phone and read the news or the social media channels specially curated to satisfy the appetite of the toothy tapeworm gnawing at my gut. Reading the “news” or like-minded people’s opinions about what’s wrong with each other and the world is a palliative, a temporary tonic, like having a drink, or taking antibiotics.
Seeing reprehensible behavior in others is easy. The negativity implanted in myself and its manifestations is more difficult to acknowledge. A glimpse of the ubiquity and depth of my negativity, and my addiction to its poison, is nearly impossible to bear. I turn away and go back to complaining and criticizing myself, others, and the world. Even inebriation with substances or mindfulness meditation is better than confronting the inner Superfund site.
By grace, at times I catch a glimpse not only of the poverty of my state but also another possibility. This other state doesn’t admit negativity. Integral to this freer state is a hunger and aspiration to be with what is, to maintain a watchful, engaged and curious regard for the pleasant and unpleasant, the attractive and repulsive, good and evil alike.
This article appears in May 2025.
