glergle

What?

Shundo was standing at the sink, rinsing a cup, as the person next to him pressed down on the coffee carafe, and left the kitchen. “Glergle,” he repeated. scooping coffee into his french press, “the sound of the empty coffee thermos.” The sinking feeling that you’re going to have to be the one to make the next one.

I had just been cycling through a round of thoughts on the same phenomenon in relation to the vase on the landing between the first and second floors. As I came downstairs, I noticed as I had for several days that the water was getting cloudy. (The person who usually makes the beautiful arrangements was away.) And I continued walking, thinking about the fine line between being responsive and overfunctioning.

Each time, I think, Yes, I could take it to the courtyard, empty it and make a new arrangement, but do I have 15 minutes to devote to that? Not now. (Apparently I have 15 minutes to devote to writing about not doing it)

This morning as I passed it again, I was thinking about Daniel Goleman’s book Social Intelligence which talks about experiments in social psychology which inquire into the array of conditions in which people respond to someone in need. One setup included a man lying on the street in distress outside a rectory door. The priests who walked out the door largely walked by the man, not registering his distress in their focus on being on time to deliver a sermon. Goleman’s point was that in order to help someone, we have to notice their suffering. And the larger point was the urban trance people get into about encountering more situations than they can respond to.

But what about when you do notice it and decide you can’t respond? When is that skillful? And within that is there another way to respond that is actually possible and that might help? As in, maybe I’ll take the vase to the flower area on my way to this meeting that is about to start in 3 minutes.