Doing evil is a burden on the soul. Sometimes I hurt another unintentionally with careless words, spoken without thinking. My filter is not intact. Sometimes I blurt out what I am thinking, having calculated it is socially acceptable, without evaluating whether the words will hurt another person's feelings. Sometimes it is difficult to really know whether a remark will be taken in jest or taken ill. I think fatigue plays a role in this ethical lapse. My body may be taxed by a virus, and my mind exhausted by fatigue. I may have slept poorly the night before. I have many excuses, but nothing seems to ease the pain of knowing that one's words have done psychological harm to another, especially a person that one otherwise admires.
I am reminded of an ancient incident. Possibly no one remembers it now except for me. I learned certain lessons from the experience, but don't always practice what I know 100% of the time. To be sure, when I'm fully rested, my batteries fully charged, I usually conduct myself better.
#
In my tenth year, my friend Joe was out with a cold. For the first time that year, I sat alone in the school cafeteria at lunch. I was eating a dry and leathery soybean burger and washing it down with sips of chocolate milk, a nasty combination. I wasn’t in the best of spirits, and I felt it was just as well that Joe wasn’t at school today, because I might say the wrong thing and offend him.
The night before, I had played my mom and dad at Risk for three hours. The two of us eliminated Mom’s military forces in less than thirty minutes. The game changed into a battle between my father and me. The game was longer than most, spanning three hours, but in the end, I lost as my father invaded my stronghold in Australia and destroyed the last of my armies. I wept. My father shook his head in anger. He said, “Why are you crying? You’re taking all of the fun out of the game for me. Why are you taking it so seriously?”
I had cried because my dad wasn’t a great military genius. Losing to my dad meant that I wasn’t as clever as my idol, Napoleon. I was not born to dominate others, to conquer and to rule. My fate would be different. If I wasn’t borne to be a conqueror, then I must become one of the vanquished. This is why tears fell from my eyes. All I ever wished to do back then was be the last one standing in all the games I played.
#
From the corner of my eye, I saw Alice standing before me with her tray in her hands.
Alice said, “Is it okay if I sit here?”
My heart quickened with surprise. I looked away and waved my hand in the air. “I guess.”
She took a step toward me and then paused. “Sure you don’t mind?”
My voice softened. “Nah, make yourself at home.”
She laid her tray on the table and sat down. As she opened her chocolate milk carton, I said, “How come you’re not sitting with your friends?”
“Oh, I don’t know. They’re kind of boring sometimes.”
In a sarcastic tone, I said, “Well, I’ll try my best not to bore you, then.”
She laughed, as though I was just teasing her. Her eyes were gleaming with happiness. I couldn’t imagine the reason. She was insane. I took another bite of the bland soybean burger. She took my cue and started eating. After we had finished our food and were sitting idle, she said, “I was in gifted class all day yesterday. You might have missed me.”
The mention of this gifted class struck a bad chord in me, because I desperately wanted in. “Missed you?” I said coolly.
“Gifted class is so much fun!” She smiled.
I gripped the empty carton of chocolate milk until it crumpled in my fist.
"We did an experiment in gifted class yesterday. The teacher had us all bring old shoeboxes from home. We lined them with aluminum foil and placed them on windowsills where they caught the Sun. We did something else and then around lunchtime, we found that the hot dogs were cooked and ready to eat! It was a demonstration of solar power. Neat, huh?”
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I don’t care about your stupid hot dogs. That’s what.”
She stared at me with surprise and hurt written upon her face. “I thought you were interested.”
“I’m tired of hearing you brag about the stuff you do in gifted class. So you go to gifted class! Big deal! I heard from other people that you’re stuck-up, and I have to agree. You’re just a big fat snob!”
Two or three kids turned around and looked at her, with smiles written on their faces, pleased by the unfolding drama. Alice‘s face assumed a bright red hue. Alice was on the verge of tears when she said, in a quite reasonable tone, “W-Why are you saying these things? What have I ever done to offend you?”
“Alice, we all know you think you’re smarter than everyone else! But you’re not as smart as you think you are! So just buzz off with your solar-powered hot dogs!”
She cried. Right there in the cafeteria, in front of everyone. Those who take pleasure in the suffering of others grinned at the spectacle. There was one exception. A black girl with kind-looking eyes, Charlotte, appraised the situation at a glance. She scolded me for making Alice cry.
I opened my mouth to make a witty retort, but changed my mind. In a flash I had full awareness of what I had said. I felt diminished, much diminished. In a low voice, I said, “I’m sorry, Alice.” She would not look at me. With more urgency I said, “Please forgive me.” I tried to touch her hand, but she flinched away. Through her tears, she said, “Stay away from me!”
I learned on this day that there are words that cannot be taken back. If we could live our lives over again, how perfect we would be! Each vulnerable moment would be rehearsed. Forewarned, we would avoid many temptations.
An apology only ever works in part, not in whole. The wound remains. Sometimes apologies are not accepted. People clutch the evil words that others have said to them, but dismiss praise as false or worthless, even when the praise carried more sincerity than the rash criticism spoken in haste. The analytical mind is implicated in this, because it is hungry for knowledge. There is more information contained in the exception than the norm. The analytical mind focuses upon exceptions--bad things--to satisfy its craving for answers, which may lead to a distorted perception of the overall reality. People think things are worse than they really are. In this way, they place limits upon their powers of perception. They see part, but the totality escapes them.
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