“The intoxication of anger, like that of the grape, shows us to others, but hides us from ourselves.” – John Dryden
Sometimes I get lost in ambiance. I’m cocooned in my own safe world of oblivion and forget not all is as it seems.
As a writer I should know better. It’s there in the pages of my writing, all the malice and splendor of existential human traits. Still, some small part of me and I believe all of us knows that other world exist – the rampant ignorance and disrespect for life. We just don’t want it to touch us, stain us with its residual tar of bitter noxious taint.
Ignorance is bliss, or is it?
Wednesday evening a thug, a disreputable denizen of wanton moral standards thought it would be amusing to bust out the back window of my car. Those last sentiments are putting it lightly. I’ll bite back the curses of abject hatred I had for whoever did this.
Nothing was stolen. As horrible as it may sound, I would have perhaps understood if they had been a thief instead of a mere vandalizing thug. At least in my mind a thief would have had some purpose, given some kind of meaning to their actions. Instead I’m left to wonder at the cruelty of such an act that had to be for no other reason than malice, petty vindictiveness in a show of bravado.
I’ve run the gamut of emotions. A stranger breeched my safe haven and made me question myself and those around me. First there was inconsolable anger, foul ugly visions of what I would have loved to do to this person. Then came a sleepless night, followed the next day in the secure knowledge my insurance would cover it.
Sounds easy enough, cumbersome, bothersome, and troublesome, but easily fixed – right? Nothing in life is ever that straightforward. I was left to ponder, how was I responsible for someone else’s vulgarity in my life.
Me? How could the fault lay with me? How was this responsibility mine? Did I leave myself vulnerable?
I live on a dead end street, the only house beside the woods. There is a path that meanders through those woods which would make an easy getaway. My driveway is hidden beside the house, right before the wooded lot and it’s not visible at night. There are no motion detectors or enough light to see an intruder. So was this an open invitation to disrupt my life?
Two days later living with the inconvenience of changed plans and little to no mobility due to traveling with a busted back window, I’m no longer angry or puzzled. I recognize the vandal for what he is – a time thug.
That’s all he accomplished - earning a descriptive moniker.
The window gets replaced. I’m still able to move forward with a slight change of plans for the weekend. And I’ve decided this alone wasn’t worth any changes to my home. A motion detector would frighten off the numerous deer who visit my property (Not much to weigh there, a blinding light shining in my windows or a chance to watch a small herd of deer).
So what changed? Life. It’s too precious to waste any of it on someone hell bent on stealing my time and ambiance. Some day they too will have worked hard and given of themselves for something of worth and someone will do the same to them. We all earn our lessons at one point or another.
Thank you time thug, you succeeded in enriching my life experience to feed the muse in me. Don’t be surprised if someday you play a part in something I’ve written. Just as I have my place in the world, so do you. Objects are easily replaced. Peace of mind is for those who live fully. A reminder that ignorance was never bliss, just a postponement of the reality that surrounds us all.
Writing material comes from the most unlikely places. Amusing is it not? - Indigo
Picture derives from here