It’s dark and cold, and you’re heading to work. You’re on a three lane highway headed west. You’re comfortable and happy in the middle lane. Cruise control on. Music tingling your senses, when you suddenly see a construction zone.
You are a good driver of course and a conscientious one at that, so you see traffic with plenty of time. You are experienced and you know what happens next. Three lanes become two lanes and two lanes turn into one late. A slow moving parade route. A motorcade of cars with twinkling break lights.
You’ve made your move.
You’re on the far right, but you’re irritated by the steady stream of inconsiderate drivers that whiz past you on your left hand side. You begin to curse their brazen selfishness and feel a little sorry for yourself. Why does it feel you always go unrewarded by obeying the law, when those bitches and bastards get to do what they please. And they get away with it too!
Well, besides the fact that the Highway Traffic Act asks all drivers to stay in their lane to the very end before safely merging into yours, this seems to be the beginning of a day you might wish to forget.
It’s not fair, you say.
You’re a great driver and it’s not your fault that you saw the construction zone in plenty of time. You complied as soon as you were able, and so why are you punished when the other drivers are so selfish. Why can’t they do and be the same?
Why can’t they?
I don’t know, but what does that have to do with the price of milk in China?
(I used to hate that expression when I was growing up).
It’s clear that the other cars are in a hurry. They clearly have their own set of problems (telling time would be one), but this isn’t about them, this is about you.
As they pass you by, you curse their life and mentally spit on their wretched existence. You wish for ever pothole to seduce their every wheels. For every nail to spike their rubber soul. For every pebble to target and destroy their windshield. You want them to suffer. You want them to feel your wrath. To know your pain and disapproval. You want them to know how deeply they have hurt young that you’re a force to be reckoned with.
They, on the other hand, selfishly and inconsiderate don’t know you are alive. They are merrily whistling and whizzing their way past you, going to wherever they are going, unaffected by any of your thoughts or spiteful words (not to mention ugly gestures).
By what about you?
How long will it take for you to forget this act of insolence? How will the rest of your day shape up? Will this event trigger a series of other unfortunate events in your life? Will this become the gold standard?
How sill you handle the fact that someone didn’t take out the coffee filter from the coffee maker? Will you get angry because the woman at the drive through window gave you honeyglazed when you specifically asked for sprinkled? Will you be curt and nasty? Pissy? Easily agitated? E
Why hand over your freedom to somebody else.
The driver on a road this morning doesn’t even know you’re alive.
This really begs the question of who is in control of our life.
You say you are free. Born free. Born wild, but you don’t act like it. You act like a victim of our circumstance. I’m not saying that its easy to let things go. I’m not saying that life sometimes makes it very difficult for us to let things go, but don’t you think its a good idea to let go?
Isn’t it worth the effort to try?
There is a lot at stake.
A good morning for starters.
Think a bit harder and let go a little easier. Don’t rob yourself from having a great day.
Not for a jerk who doesn’t know you were ever born, anyway.
Cover photo generously provided by photographer Joey Kyber via unsplash.com