Eavesdropping

I frequently spend time writing in a coffee shop or a pub. I generally do this when I become too distracted by everything at home. After all, I could do chores or knit or sew or read instead of my daily writing.

Most of the time, because I tend to go in the off hours, the cafe or pub is very quiet and I have the space virtually to myself. But there are those occasions where someone feels the need to speak just a smidgen too loudly about topics that would be better kept quiet or private. Naturally, I shamelessly listen in while appearing to be gazing into space in search of inspiration.

I have heard a couple of older gentlemen compare their nocturnal bathroom habits. I have heard all sorts of reprehensible bigotry expressed. I've heard way too much from young ladies about what they and their boyfriends are up to. And my most recent favorite was a clutch of little old ladies at a nearby table sharing their health difficulties. Who would have known that there were so many gory details to be related about getting one's toenails clipped!

I find some of my eavesdropping to be amusing. Other times I listen in total disbelief at what people will discuss in a public space. And I save up some of the tidbits for later writing projects. All of which makes me wonder whether these folks are assuming that people can't hear them or if they truly have no boundaries. Perhaps they are expecting others to have manners that they seemingly lack themselves.

Some people seem to believe that their physical bubble is somehow also an audio bubble which keeps other people from hearing what they are talking about. Similar to the way some folks think they are invisible in their cars, they think they have a cone of silence between themselves and everyone except the person to whom they are talking.
Or, maybe, they don't realize just how loudly they are talking -- too much life or too much iPod music having nibbled away at their hearing. Then again, it might just be that they permanently misplaced their manners. Perhaps it is different reasons for different people, but whatever it is it seems to be widespread and expanding.

One of the most annoying aspects of this baring it all in public frequently involves a cell phone. Many people seem to be constitutionally unable to lower their voice while talking on their cell phones in public. This is a nuisance because I really don't want to hear about the latest business deal you are making, or having to take your dog to the vet, or the ugly breakup you had with whoever it was that you were sleeping with last. I figure those topics are private business and can't for the life of me understand why anyone would loudly share the details with me. It's not that I don't find human behavior fascinating, because I do; I just don't care to hear a lot about it over food and drink.

I know, I know, one is supposed to ignore, or pretend to ignore, what is said at nearby tables. And I would, given half the chance. I'm a big fan of privacy. But in these cases, the people involved seem determined to make that extremely difficult if not impossible to do. Just a lowering of the volume would go a long way towards keeping your business to yourself. Or, even better, wait until you are in a private place to discuss private matters. And it isn't as though I'm making negative judgments on whatever is going on in someone's life, because I'm not. In fact, while it is distracting, it is also quite amusing sometimes. I just didn't come into the establishment hoping to know that much about strangers.

I realize there's nothing to be done about it. But if anyone ever hears me discussing my toenails, or God knows what else, in a public space please put me out of my, and everyone else's, misery.

Age

"Age is a case of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it don't matter." -- Satchel Paige.

Generally, I think Satchel Paige was right about this one with only a couple of exceptions. I've never been one to get upset about birthdays. The only times that I have, it hasn't been about the age I was. It was about something that was missing from my life that I thought I should have had by the time I was that age. And this year is no exception.

The first time I really noticed the creeping of age was when I turned 25. There was just something slightly unnerving about being a quarter of a century old. But it didn't really faze me much.

The year I turned 30 was when I first noticed that any concern I had about age was linked to unmet dreams and needs. Leading up to the day, I had absolutely no qualms about turning 30. Then 3 days before my birthday, we got a letter from a friend that mentioned her younger sister was graduating from college that spring. Crash! I was going to be 30 with no college degree and I indulged in a bit of a pity party. It was the lack of a degree rather than the age that got to me.

Forty didn't faze me at all. I was in a new certificate program, having finished my degree 4 years earlier. I was working with like-minded people and getting ready to begin an entirely new chapter in my life. I think that 40 was the most liberating birthday I have had yet.

But this year, I am again noticing things and experiences that are missing from my life that I had hoped would be there by now. And I know that, before too many more birthdays pass, I will have to give up entirely on some of them. I don't like that fact, but they aren't entirely in my power to bring into my life. However, I think that I'll let myself continue to hope for a while longer.

Satchel got it wrong if he meant to say that age never matters. There are some cases where it does. Our society elevates youth and totally dismisses age. Ask any 50-something person what they think their prospects are if they are laid off from a job. Most folks will agree that they are slim to none.

And more than a few times in my life, I have seen very old people addressed in tones more appropriate for use with children. There is more than a suggestion that older people, meaning older than the person with the opinion, can't possibly know anything due to being old and, therefore, out of touch. I first experienced this when I was the ripe old age of 35. I'd finally returned to college to finish my degree and almost all of my classmates were in their early 20s. In a philosophy class, there was young fellow who was clearly of the opinion that I was too old to know anything at all. He would take contrary positions to everything I said and resort to put downs when logic wouldn't carry his argument forward. I was befuddled by this so I talked with the professor. He told me that I wasn't imagining it, it was real, and that I should watch how the brat talked to him as well. Apparently, the tyke had serious problems with older people, no matter how little or how much older they were. I expect that that sort of thing will increase as my age does. And I am absolutely certain that it will make me angry and I'll put a few people in their places.

An interesting thing that I've noticed about the whole age thing is that the number doesn't mean much as far as the individual is concerned. I've known people in their 20s who are "old" - and not in a good way. I've also known people in their 70s who could give people 30 years their junior a run for the money. As for myself, I have absolutely no idea what 49 is supposed to feel like. Internally, deep down in my self-identity, I don't feel significantly different than I did in my late 20s. I have no clue at all what "to act one's age" means and I don't think I want to find out. If it means to rein myself in from things I want to do simply because of the number of birthdays I've had, then I want nothing to do with it.

This year I'm determined not to focus too much on what has not come to me. I plan to continue as I have been with necessary course corrections and continue to hope. Beats the heck out of the alternative.

Acceptance

"Our entire life consists ultimately in accepting ourselves as we are." -- Jean Anouilh.

I've been mulling over this quote and the general notion of acceptance for a while now. It seems to me, absent certain reprehensible behaviors, that there is something very true here. There is also something very much counter to what is thought to be the case by society as a whole.

If we are taught anything about acceptance, it is generally directed at accepting other people's differences or foibles. In some cases, this is a very good thing because the opposite of acceptance is, frequently, judgment or even condemnation. When dealing with the opinions, actions or beliefs of others, we must just accept them for what they are and then either embrace them or walk away. We can never change them.

But when it comes to ourselves, we are generally taught just the opposite. From the time we are children, we are encouraged, taught, expected or threatened into an endless round of self-modification. This is done to make us fit into the expectations of a wider group, whether it be a family, a religion or a community. Some model of preferred behavior is held up as an ideal and we are instructed to try to attain it. Doomed from the get-go, we then, frequently, see only our failures and not ourselves. And we certainly never even consider accepting ourselves for what we are, both good and not so good. At best, this can leave us with a slight case of perpetual discomfort. At worst, true self-loathing can settle in, crippling any ability we might have for self-love.

Now, I don't for a minute think that absolutely everything is worthy of acceptance, but, as a retired master of the try-to-be-perfect guild, I think some healthy acceptance is sadly missing in many of us. And, in a funny kind of way, there is a bit of arrogance in thinking that we are capable of attaining the much vaunted perfection, never mind the silliness in setting it as a goal. In some ways, the always striving after whatever perfection we choose to aim at is a substitution for actually attaining it. It's as though wishing one had a particular virtue, and being seen to be striving after it, is the same as having that virtue.

We seem to put ourselves through this chronic lack of acceptance in every sphere of our lives. We see any failure to live up to an arbitrary standard as a personal failure. And frequently we equate these failures with moral failures. We aren't thin enough.......enough for whom? We don't earn enough......again enough for whom? We aren't smart enough, nice enough, something else enough. We tie ourselves up in knots to be enough, when in fact, most of us are good enough just as we are. We spend untold amounts of effort focusing on living up to some standard set by others and often never even consider what is acceptable for our own lives.

I know this has been true in my life, to the point that it took a concerted effort to even figure out what it might look like to have self-acceptance on any level. I used to beat myself up thoroughly over the past, over and over again, little realizing that there was absolutely no use in it. I even used to give myself a thorough mental thrashing over things that I thought that didn't live up to the elusive standards. And it was always a case of lather, rinse and repeat; there simply wasn't enough self-flogging to be done.

Fortunately, I've given a good deal of that stuff the boot. But I find myself wondering how much of my personal goal setting and life choices are still subconsciously being governed by the old lack of self-acceptance monster. I'm quite comfortable with the fact that I am not now nor ever will be perfect. I'm also thoroughly convinced that growth requires change and that change entails leaving behind previous convictions and behaviors without condemning the best effort of the past. I'm fairly confident that as I muddle along doing the best that I can, I will make some spectacular boo-boos, but I'm equally confident that they will not spring from a malicious spirit and I find that acceptable enough.