There is that line given to the Devil in Clive Barker’s play, “The History of the Devil,” that cracks me up every time I read it: “Knots, for instance, I take very seriously. Thank God, we’re all tied up in knots, bound up in a bundle, or we’d stray: wander off into the dark and lose ourselves completely.” There is such amazing truth to such a short couple of sentences. As I move to go back to more structured posts for my blog, Tuesdays are the day to focus on what ties me up in knots or makes me knotty all inside. It is a self-exploration of the deficits that I find hold be back or down or away from my goals and accomplishments and an examination of what drives me nuts and why.
Granted, there is a silly little double entendre behind the title. Not today, but eventually I’m sure.
Doubt
Doubt is a killer. Disbelief, lack of trust, blind faith or even a lack of faith, suspicion: all of these are tied up in doubt. Self-esteem and self-identity (including self-image) is wrapped up in this concept of doubt. Doubt is different than skepticism. Skepticism is healthy. Doubt is fatal.
One of the biggest things that ties me up in knots is the fear of failure success. What if I’m not good enough to teach people? What if I can’t make the grades? What if I fail to get hired? What if I can’t hack the core classes? What if I can’t learn Latin? All doubts about my abilities and qualities. I don’t fear my failure. I fail if I’m not working toward my goals. If I have not reached them, I have not failed: I merely have not succeeded yet. But if I do reach them, then what? And that’s where the doubt sinks in.
In the Book of the Law one of my favorite lines is “certainty, not faith, while in life, upon death; peace unutterable, rest, ecstasy (AL 1.58).” I think so many people read “certainty, not faith” as some kind of assurance of knowing or denigration of faith itself. But this verse certainly isn’t about a lack of faith or a lack of skepticism. It is about a lack of doubt[]. Not knowing if there is actually a god or not isn’t a matter of doubt but a lack of objective and verifiable information. Not knowing if I can learn Latin isn’t a matter of doubt but a lack of trying yet. I cannot doubt something I do not know or have not tried to accomplish.
I’ve let doubt creep into many different aspects of my life. Some have good reasons, others not so good reasons. But one of the hang-ups I have right now in at least one situation is that my doubt is plagued by a lack of evidence to contradict my doubts. So it becomes confusing to me as to whether I am in doubt or if I’m seeing the certainty of the situation itself and mistaking it as doubt out of denial.
Communication
One of the things that ties me up in knots—and especially right now—is this apparent lack of people to communicate properly and yet assume that because they opened their mouth they are somehow communicating. I guess if you always open your mouth to put something in it, then you are, absolutely, communicating in some form, but it doesn’t actually relay any kind of information beyond a willingness to be on one’s knees.
It’s frustrating to have a conversation (this is, of course, imaginary) go something like this:
A: So how is your tea?
B: The milk is quite amazing.
A: But how is your tea?
B: The milk is great and you should stop asking about it.
A: So the tea isn’t any good?
B: Didn’t I just tell you that the milk was awesome!?!?
A: But …
B: I answered you already! I told you what I thought about the tea! Why can’t you just listen when I clearly told you about the tea!?! I even said, “The milk is quite amazing.” Why couldn’t you get that in the first place?
A: But …
B: Shut up, fuck off, and take your fucking milk with you!
Somewhere there is a communication breakdown. But I feel like I have these kinds of conversations quite often. Part of it is spending 15 years in technical support. People lie. Period. Sometimes they don’t even know they are lying. But they do. So when you have to fix something for them, you have to keep it simple.
A: Did you unplug the printer?
B: Yes. The printer has been unplugged. I unplugged it from the power strip so that I wouldn’t unplug everything else there.
A: Good. That’s perfect. So now we need to check out … what’s that sound? It’s horrendous.
B: I’m printing a charge statement for a Member. I told you the printer sounded like a dying seal.
A: I thought we just said that the printer was unplugged.
B: Yeah. I did. Hang on. Just one more page.
A: *head—desk*
So I tend to treat everyone the same. Short, simple sentences: How was your hot dog? How is the tea? Is it raining outside? Did you get in trouble today?
Jinx and I have a very simple system. His school sends home two stickers/stamps/something to indicate when he’s had a great day. I get little notes if he’s not[]. Before I ever look at those, I ask him two questions point blank in the car, “Can you tell me one thing you learned today” (start out with a positive response question) and “Did you get in any trouble at all?” (end with the behavior question). He’s learning that “trouble” doesn’t mean anything along the lines of stringing up the cat from the monkey bars. It means “trouble.” Period. Great. Small. Big. Little. Whatever. Trouble. Did you get in trouble at all.
Telling me the truth does not add to the consequences of his behavior. He is already aware of the consequences before he even gets home. They are the same every day no matter what. They do not change. They do not increase. They do not provide any room for argument. I am bound by them as much as he is. But telling me the truth allows us to communicate about the issue itself and discuss ways to either avoid the problem or find a solution. And sometimes he finds out that some things that get sent home as “trouble” can be “forgiven” or “overlooked” because his honest explanation (and I can tell the difference) shows that he was in the middle of a bad situation and got zinged along with everyone else even if he wasn’t really part of the problem[].
Truth won’t make it worse, but truth can make it better. But at the very least, truth allows us to talk about the issue and work through why the problem exists in the first place and how we can find a solution to the issue for future consideration. It’s not perfect yet, but we’re getting there.
Every relationship can work this way. But when you ask a question about tea and the other person seems to truly think they’ve answered the question by responding with milk, then you have to ask yourself if they are merely stupid or intentionally deceptive. If communication is to occur (and we are talking about the use of a single language here), then it must have a basis in accepted and understood and mutually agreed upon concepts. Tea is not milk no matter how much one might wish it to be so.
So I get all tied up in knots when I believe that I am communicating fairly, simply, and clearly in a forthcoming and open manner and the responses are as relevant to my words as olives are to Belgian waffles.
So: knots, knots, knots. It’s all about knots. I’m working through mine. I’m working to unravel them, learning to tie them better or in new and more creative ways, and pursuing a (mis)use of knots in more ways than one. I was, after all, a Boy Scout once upon a time. I should have this knot thing down already.
innervox
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