Irritable

That is the word, or its Spanish equivalent, that I used today to describe what happens to persons of a certain age.  Actually the Spanish word is the same, irritable, but it is pronounced quite differently: ee- rrrree-TAH-blay.  Don`t forget to roll the r.  I was having a conversation in Spanish on the bus today with two young Mexicans in their twenties.  They have been here for a month.  They are from Guadalajara.  At the bus stop they tried to get in front of me and I began to advise them in English, good-naturedly of course, but then quickly switched to Spanish, as I told them I`m getting on ahead of them because I am a lot older than they are.  We kind of became instant friends and chatted during our short ride together.  When I learned that they were roommates, making it easier to pay the bills, I mentioned that when you get as old as me you become selfish and irritable and especially don`t want to share the bathroom.  They of course laughed but there is a lot of truth in what I said, which is likely why they were both laughing.

I am more than aware of my irritability.  I carry it with me like a running sore whenever I venture out in public and often when I am home alone.  Noise is my biggest irritant.  There was a customer in the café I was in who decided to whistle for a while.  I am particularly bothered by whistling so I plugged my ears till he could see me and then stop.  Then he started again, likely taking a defiant childish mentality of I`ll do what ever the f-you see-k I want.  So I packed up my art materials and went upstairs where things were a little more tranquil.  While walking in the forest I was annoyed by joggers, first a young couple that nearly ran me over without so much as an excuse me and then later a lone jogger who didn`t bother to say thank you when I stepped well out of his way to let him pass.  Then there were the two women yapping in loud voices on one trail making it necessary for me to avoid going there so I could enjoy the peace and quiet of the forest. 

Now I don`t suppose all the aforementioned examples betray me as an irritable old man but in some ways I would have to say that yes I am to the manner born, and all I can do is find ways of coping and adapting even if it means having to physically distance myself from the irritants.  Where I am beginning to draw the line is by refusing to allow my irritability to become an excuse for rudeness or for a lack of empathy.  This is not easy and it often means refusing to believe that the irritants are hurting me intentionally, and I do experience the blows of irritation like physical pain.  It means transcending my selfish reptilian brain-sourced need for instant gratification and refuge in order to give place to the other.  It is an act of the highest unconditional love.

To you Gentle Reader I confess that every day and many times a day I never fail to fall short of this high calling.  I profess that I am a Christian yet my behaviour and more often my thoughts and feelings and perceptions indicate a selfish, frightened and spiteful old man.  This is my shadow.  I do not disown it.  But neither am I going to permit my shadow to rule my life and deprive me of the blessing that is there for me each moment of every day should I greet life with a spirit of gratitude and joy.  Even if I get sideswiped every time by irritability I am going to get up again, dust myself off and proceed with this all-consuming business of walking and living in a spirit of love.  My shadow I am already leash-training, like an aggressive pit bull that will move me forward under my strict control with its unquenchable energy without turning to bite or attack me.