Selfish

I spent much of the week (selfishly) reflecting on how selfish people are, how self-centered and self-motivated. Why can't they just realize that if we all pulled together, everything would be easier for everyone? Why is everyone so predisposed to be so selfish?

To which my teacher, Heather (this is why I have a teacher) had a response that surprised me: they aren't. People are, by and large, helpful and kind. We watch out for each other and obey rules we don't need to obey simply because it is the right thing to do and makes the world a better place. Driving anywhere, at any time, would be virtually impossible if people really were entirely selfish. Working, buying groceries, taking a walk, going to the theater—all of it would be entirely impossible. (Hmm...I sense an allegorical novel coming on).

Now, I can give you a hundred examples of how selfish people are, how that selfishness makes my life more difficult, how I know the right way to go about things, dammit, and if they could only....

Oh.

I think what I have mistaken for selfishness (most of the time, anyway) is a failure to comply with my idea of what is right and workable. As a boss, I also sometimes confuse acquiescence with being kind. I mean, I really do have the authority to simply say, "No. No, you may not take that day off. Sorry, that doesn't work for us". And I have, sometimes. But when I find myself becoming angry because people are doing things that serve them well but might not serve the whole, if these instances are things I could control if I chose to, well, then, I either have to cowboy up and risk their displeasure or accept the consequences with a full and open heart. Which isn't nearly as much fun as fuming, which makes me feel righteous and superior.

I just went for a long walk today and encountered no fewer than three Little Libraries, and I wasn't

even looking for them. Do you have those where you live? They look like the ones in this picture (though all of them are a bit different from the others, which is one of the things that makes them charming). People buy them (or make them), mount them outdoors and fill them with books. Why in the world would they do that? There is no reason except that they wish to share something they love with others. It is anonymous. It is effortful. And they do it because of the love in their hearts.

My teacher is right. There is more evidence for the goodness of this race than there is evidence of its opposite. Oh, I know. Don't tell me about Boko Haram and bigoted police officers and ISIL and canned beets—I know there is evil in the world; I am not naive. But there is beauty and love and helpfulness and joy and generosity and more love in abundance. I just have to remember to look for it.