Showing posts with label unhappiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unhappiness. Show all posts

Saturday, August 23, 2014

TOO UNHAPPY TO BE KIND




The poet A.E.Housman  is usually associated with World War I and Shropshire, but he also wrote a moving poem about Londoners, in which he said:



The mortal sickness of a mind
Too unhappy to be kind.
Undone with misery, all they can
Is to hate their fellow man;
And till they drop they needs must still
Look at you and wish you ill.” [1]



Anyone who has studied the faces on city streets has seen what Housman did—busy, tense people who ignore others or are rude to them. New Yorkers and other large-city dwellers, particularly, are inclined to treat others with brusqueness or actual unkindness, probably because they are dealing with stressful city life themselves. (However, in disasters or even minor difficulties, they can be surprisingly helpful. It seems to be everyday life that makes them miserable.)

Small towns and rural areas are not free from the phenomenon, either. When I shop in the local supermarket, I see shoppers who look tense and tired. They may treat clerks or other shoppers with discourtesy. It is rare to see someone who looks relaxed and happy.

The main insight I gained years ago in group therapy is that we have common troubles. We are not really alone when we feel lonely or mistreated; others are facing similar worries. Sometimes, as in group therapy, sharing our feelings with others can help greatly. Even if we keep our anxieties to ourselves, though, remembering our commonality is useful. Being understanding can also come easier with age. When we have passed through various sorrows ourselves, we can recognize the signs in others. Of course, the problems of aging can also make us more inclined to self-pity.

My friend Ruth (who has plenty of her own problems) uses the signature line, “Be kind. Everyone you meet is struggling with something.” What a simple, powerful idea! The barista who overfills the coffee cup may have a husband in Afghanistan; the jerk who cuts you off in traffic may have just lost his job; the woman who is dressed rather bizarrely may have just been released from a hospital. Knowing the whole story may explain much. For instance, just the other day, the RV near us in an otherwise silent campground had a noisy generator running for hours. We were on the verge of complaining when we learned that the owner must use an electronic medical device at night requiring a fully charged battery. What a narrow escape we had from being cruel!

 



[1] Housman. A.E. 1896. In my own shire, if I was sad. From A Shropshire Lad. Avon Publishing, Inc.