Nuance 8

How do we measure success? Or, rather, what is success? I am trying in my mind to juxtapose two, no, three very different occurrences over the last twenty-four hours, or so. The first was yesterday in a coffeeshop, my favourite coffeeshop, I suppose, or at least the one where one is most likely to find me, since I tend to gravitate there two, or sometimes, three times a week. It's often pleasant enough in there, especially if I am able to score my favourite seat in the corner, one of three comfy chairs surrounding a round wooden coffee table. I was there yesterday around noon, nursing a decaf Americano and a near frisbee-size chocolate cookie, or my usual. All was well, tranquil, not too many people, and I was getting tons of work done on a drawing in my sketchbook. Then she came in. A braying jackass. One of two blonde middle-aged women, fresh from some sort of fitness session. The other one was okay, quiet and probably more a captive audience for the braying she-donkey, a rather large woman with long, fake blonde hair and a tendency to sit in total man-spread. Nothing wrong with women sitting like men, though it doesn't really look good on men, either, especially if you want some space to sit next to one of those space hogs on a crowded bus. The braying she-jackass was unrelenting. I was learning everything I could care less about her grooming techniques, her hair, her fear of ageing, her home improvement business, her dog, and finally, convinced I was captive audience to an incurable narcissist, reached into my pocket and pulled out my little orange friends. That's right, Gentle Reader. My earplugs. I don't know if the braying she-jackass saw me put them in, but who only knows. Some people just don't seem able to control or modulate their voice. And I know absolutely nothing about this woman. I haven't a clue where she's from, what kind of struggles she has had to live with, if she has been challenged by child abuse or cancer or what have you. I only know that she was for me a very annoying and almost physcially painful presence, hence the earplugs. She might be a lovely person, a loyal friend, perhaps she does many lovely things for others. Or maybe not. Probably a financially successful person. As a human being? Who only knows? I can't judge her, even if she does seem like an easy target. She certainly doesn't know how to behave in public. On the other hand, I know absolute zip about the stresses and challenges she might be living with. But I have my orange little friends, my earplugs, and they do come in handy. And I didn't even say anything to anyone about the annoyance, not even the owner, who did seem a bit concerned and sympathetic about the situation. This morning, in the small hours, I was listening to a couple of documentaries on the radio, CBC, of course. My frenemies. The first was a documentary about Christians who live in North Korea. Christianity is illegal in the Hermit Kingdom, and known Christians are routinely rounded up and imprisoned, tortured and put to death. Yet they have a flourishing underground church, and people have put their lives on the line for their faith. This is the Christianity of the first three hundred yeaars, and this is the Christian faith that I was reborn into and that I still practice to this day. And I have suffered significant persecution and social exclusion already for the sake of Jesus. If my faith ever became illegal, I would suffer. If the penalty was death, I would die. Plain and simple. The very source of my wellbeing is in God. I will not deny him. Then, on the Ideas program was a piece aboout the current Sobey competition for emerging young artists. The prize, given at the National Gallery in Ottawa, of course, has been doubled to one hundred thousand smackeroos. The finalists were all interviewed and they all had basically the same message: follow your vision, no matter what the cost. Uh-huh. I will bet you bagels to donuts that not one of those finalists have had to go without some sense of support or ballast from others in order to get to where they are now: family, spouse, partner, social connections, prefessional network, birth order, what have you. And I will bet you more bagels to donuts that for every one of those precious little success stories, there are a hundred more equally or even more talented artists, who will never dream of rising to the top, people like me, who are alone, poor and without ballast or support, who have basically had to shelve our dreams just to stay alive for one more day. But in our culture of vicious captialism and competition, only the strong survive. So, what is the success here? I have opted to be a successful human being, whatever the cost, and this is centred firmly in my Christian faith. I am alone and abandoned in this world but God is with me. Perhaps in the eyes of others I am a failure. But if I can get through a single day without harshly judging a stranger or friend, if I can perform at least one act of kindness, if I can give thanks for the sacred moments that are present to me throughout the day, if I can smile and laugh at myself, then I don't care about the other so-called successess of others. I do not know them, and I do not know what they have had to barter of their own human soul to get what they want, to get to where they are now. I will gladly and joyously despoil myself of all that is not God and abandon myself joyfully to his service!