Felicity & Ferocity

conversation and the love song of J. Alfred Prufrock

WORDS, TEA, and SELFISH WITHHOLDINGS

I discovered something about the nature of grief the other week. And that is, for someone whose desires after sincerity, I find that perhaps sometimes grief is so comfortable because I can be sure of it?

"Even in laughter the heart is sorrowful; and the end of that mirth is heaviness."

"Sorrow is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart." Ecclesiastes 7:3.

Is that not true? Does not sorrow make one sober in may things?

"The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of pleasure. It is better to heed a wise man's rebuke than to listen ot the song of fools." Ecc 7:4-5

However, also, besides the virtue of sorrow (also see Nienna's character in the Silmarillion), I see that there also under "A time for everything" passage, is "I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil-- this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him." Ecc 3:12-14.

It's basically all meaningless, and so take pleasure in the life that is before you. I'm not sure what all the following exactly has to do with grief, but it does have to do with sincerity.

To be more sincere would, for me, be great pleasure. Not all sincerity comes through sorrow, naturally. I think if I were sincerely myself with my coworkers and churchpeople especially, I would sit them all down and ask them everything. I am sincerely made up of questions, I think. I want to know what you read at your dinner table, and what your kids are like, is your wife really quiet, or does she just appear that way? Was her hair long or short when you met her? What scale is your model train set? When did you become interested in trains? Have you ever been to one of those huge several-room model train displays? What school did you go to? How did you decide to become a lawyer? Why do you like RP? What is it like living so close by your parents? What does your husband do at home all day? How was he wounded? What was it like for him being in the Marines? Did you really just call him "sweetums"? What is beautiful to you? How do you cure insomnia?

And so I try not to be an obnoxious child; i.e. "why? why? what's that? what's that? why's that?" as too many questions can lead one to believe. But I just like knowing about people. In fact, it helps me work with you better to know that for Wednesday dinners you have beans and cornbread and call it "Pioneer Night" and read Laura Ingalls Wilder on-the-prairie books.

To take sincere interest in people is great pleasure. What is this that prevents me from doing so? A fear of encroaching on their jealously guarded Time? An over-modesty? Which is in fact, self absorption?

I could never figure out if this was Madeline L'engle's words or a quote from somewhere, but it sounds like thoughts derived from some reflections on Ecclesiastes: "...do not be over-modest in your own cause, for there is a modesty that leads to sin, as well as a modesty that brings honour and favour. Do not be untrue to yourself in deference to another, or so diffident that you fail in your duty.. for wisdom shows itself by speech and a man's education must find expression in words... Do not let yourself be a doormat to a fool or curry favour with the powerful. Fight to the death for truth, and the Lord God will fight on your side."

As we were made to be purveyors of truth, there is, I believe, a selfishness in some kinds of quietness. (in the way that I am quiet.) (which is, to wait for others' input while giving little of myself). I have also found great respect for some quieter people I know, whose few words are meaningful, and whose silence appears to be, well, resting in truth I reckon. I worked with a man at Harvey Cedars who had only to ask me "How was your weekend?" in the way that he did to know he cared beyond all sincerity what my answer was. He was a man of few words, and in fact had a verse inscribed somewhere in his office "In quietness and confidence shall be your strength." And he was sincere. Thus meaning, that *words* aren't neccessary for the purveying of truth. He gave himself in other ways, and in his carefully spoken words.

However, there are words that can improve the silence. "a righteous man avoids all extremes." such as, perhaps, fear. As much as I love knowing things about people and who they are, there is also nothing that rubs me the wrong way worse than my ears being held captive by those who talk too much. I love listening to people even to the point that it can be one sided. HOWEVER. I think the line is crossed when that one sided conversation goes in circles. I also realize that frustration or delight can be the result of interrupting one's important work. And so it is with me and my lawyers: I'm really afraid of interrupting their work with something unimportant to say. I don't want to be "that guy." I'll figure out the balance sometime, I'm sure. For the time being, I'm enjoying arresting them when they're heating up their lunches at the microwave by my cubicle, or getting coffee or taking a break over here.

I was talking to Annalauren on the phone the other day, (she is in Scotland, take note), and was blessed not only by her asking how I was with God and everything, but that she actually used her precious overseas phone card minutes to ask me about the tea I was drinking. She spared some phone card minutes just to ask me what my favorite tea was?

And I realize, as an offshoot of a point made in Sunday school, that just because I would love to be understood in this way, does not mean other people enjoy having inane questions asked of them. Maybe some people do enjoy it, though.

But it made me realize the pride of not wanting to interrupt- which is possibly a pride of not wanting to give myself, or an overmodesty perhaps- which is of the same pride as those who don't want to confess their sins either to God or in hearty conversation with their best friends. This is a selfish withholding of personhood. Which is something I ought to have learned at least 8 years ago. It is, perhaps, better to give than to withhold, with of course good discernment for the situation.

because, people need to be loved, sincerely. and to have known about them just what kind of tea it is that they drink.

Posted by hackenstar at April 20, 2005 04:12 PM | TrackBack