Do
You Have That Kind of Time?
“Annie, you don’t have that kind of time.”
~ Anne Lamott’s best friend, Pammy
“Chris,
you don’t have that kind of time.” I say it to myself often these days. I say
it when I’m a nanosecond away from an angry retort. I say it when I’m a
nanosecond away from a comment. I say it in my head when I think about just how
I will strike back, strike out.
“Chris,
you don’t have that kind of time” stops me in my tracks as I veer toward the lowest
of the low roads. I aspire to reach the high road. But I find I’m stuck
somewhere just above the low road, and I’m not having much success at ascending
to even the middle road.
I’m
fortunate that the majority of the time I drive the low road only in my brain.
I don’t take that road on a public or personal journey (most of the time).
However, knowing that I far too often consider dropping down to the lowest of
low roads brings me up short. The words I say and (even rehearse) in my mind,
and my devious plans to speak them with a plain, bold tone of sarcasm and scorn
remain unspoken for the most part. But I don’t like even thinking them.
A
soft answer and a movement toward the high road often turn away wrath, but that
becomes less and less the case in our say-it-all society. So I ask myself what
kind of time I have. I remind myself that refusing to answer ends a
conversation that isn’t worth having. If there is no path toward a higher road,
then it’s best to save my energy, my psyche, and my voice. I know the time will
come when a soft voice matters and when ears are primed to listen with enough
attention to hear it. At that time, I can move toward that higher road.
For
now, when I feel my gorge rise and my heart race, I know my words and ideas
will be met with the sarcasm and scorn I want to avoid sharing myself. So I banish
my impulse to speak and close my heart and mouth to words of sarcasm and scorn.
I continue to remind myself: “Chris, you don’t have that kind of time.”
