Choosing How I See the World

Recognizing that how I see the world is a choice that I make has been a challenge for me. My clever mind has devised many ways to cast my perception as absolute Truth and to mask the reality that my perception is merely one of an infinite number of ways of looking at things, one that I have chosen, often times unconsciously, often out of habit, expediency, fear or pain. Making a conscious choice to see the world in a particular way is a practice, and it takes practice. Each day brings new opportunities to practice seeing the world in new ways that contribute to my peace, calm and happiness, and to that of others who I come into contact with.

Driving has been a recurring struggle for me in this. I have historically been an angry, aggressive driver.  I drove fast, felt entitled to the road, and saw other drivers as obstacles at best or, at worst, as enemy combatants in a zero sum game – vanquish or be vanquished.  I never realized anything was wrong with this approach to driving. On the contrary, I thought it was common and normal, a perception I picked up somewhere along the way and allowed, unconsciously, to become my default state of mind when driving.  I didn’t realize this was a choice I made and I never questioned it. But, every time I got behind the wheel, I was mentally preparing myself for battle.

Of course, seeing the road as a battlefield became a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Because I expected other drivers to be both inconsiderate and intentional in denying me the smooth, fast, easy trip I felt entitled to, I saw every inconvenience I faced on the road as an act of idiocy, mercenary self-interest or deliberate assholery.  You were either a good, considerate driver or your were a horrible person right to your core – there was no middle ground.  And there was no infraction too small or insignificant to evade my wrath.  Driving too slow in the passing lanes, cutting me off, blocking me from changing lanes and constantly changing speed for no reason were just a few of the offenses that filled me with self-righteous indignation, and I would fantasize about cold vengeance while angrily cursing these no-good, horrible people.

The great irony is that, by my own measure, I was a no-good, horrible person.  I never coasted in the fast lane and carefully monitored my speed to make sure I wasn’t speeding up and slowing down for no reason, but I cut people off and made dodgy lane changes all the time.  I would tailgate people who I thought had cut me off.  I was constantly blocking people from changing lanes in front of me.  I was what I hated, but my behavior was so easy to justify when I saw myself as entitled and everyone else as in the way.

And that was how I chose to view driving – to see myself as entitled and everyone else as in my way.  I assuaged any residual guilt I had over my hypocrisy by telling myself everyone else was the exact same way.

A few years ago, I started to realize this was a problem, that I had a problem.  I decided to ask the universe for help.  In the mornings, when I got in my car, I would declare that I wanted to be a more patient person, that I wanted to have more patience, and I would ask the universe to provide me that.  Instead, what I got was opportunity after opportunity to practice patience.  Some mornings, it seemed like every car on the road was out to give me a lesson in patience.  I still remember driving down the highway, furious about some string of annoyances, and screaming at the top of my lungs while beating my hands against my steering wheel “THANK YOU FOR THE LESSON IN PATIENCE!”

One approach that worked for me was to simply recognize that I feel better, more calm, when I drive nicely and leave room – or make room – for other drivers to zip and weave as they are wont to do.  For five years, I lived in a place where the exit from the highway would back up a mile or more during evening rush hour, and you could easily wait 10 minutes just to exit the highway.  There were the people who waited in line (“good people”) and the people who drove up to the front of the line and cut in where there was  space, or simply made space by wedging the front corner of their car between two other cars (“evil people”).  This was often a dangerous move because the line would go from 40-50 mph to a standstill almost instantaneously due to the light at the end of the off-ramp, causing people to slam on their brakes and swerve to the shoulder to avoid hitting each other.  The cutters were so offensive to most of the waiters that we would ride each others’ bumpers, even at 40 or 50 mph, just to try to prevent a cutter from cutting in.  This, of course, added to the danger of the cutting.  I don’t think anyone ever stopped a cutter from cutting in by riding the tail of the car in front of them, but we all sure got satisfaction out of honking our horns and cursing them.

There were a few people who didn’t bother trying to prevent the cutters.  They let a couple hundred feet of space grow between them and the car in front of them, and a dozen cars or more would manage to squeeze in in front of them by the time they’d finally exited the highway.  I hated these people.  I also couldn’t understand why they didn’t seem to care about the cutters the way the rest of us did.  I honestly believed were doing it just to be jerks to the people behind them.

Then I started questioning my own driving habits.  How did riding the bumper of the car in front of me, frantically scanning the traffic ahead for signs of slowing and the traffic behind for potential cutters, slamming on my brakes to avoid hitting the car in front me, worrying about the car behind me being too slow on their brakes, and being cut off in the end anyway make me feel?  Did it make me happy?  Hell no.  It stroked my ego, made me feel superior and victimized, and was accompanied by a lot of anxiety (I’m starting to realize I’ve lived in almost constant anxiety probably my entire life and never realized it because it was just my default state, kind of like not noticing that you’re breathing because it’s autonomic).  I was forced to confront the fact that it wasn’t the cutting that made me so angry, but my own style of driving.  So, then, why was I driving that way if it made me miserable?  Okay, so maybe those people who are slow to start and quick to brake were on to something.  I stopped trying to block the cutters and focused instead on being a responsible defensive driver.  Suffice it say, my anxiety associated with that stupid exit subsided.  There were days, bad days, when my desire to get home quickly and get off the road was so strong that anyone who even looked like they might be trying to get in my way got the full brunt of my wrath.  But, mostly, learning to open up space, and not get uptight about other people using that space, helped me to become a more sane driver.

Alright, so I’ve got driving nicely down, but driving nicely doesn’t help my state of mind when other drivers are NOT driving nicely – cutting me off, blocking me from changing lanes, blocking the fast lane while a line of cars builds up behind them.  One jerk move from another driver has often turned me into a jerk driver – I just want to get there and get off the road and get the hell out of my way already!  Getting a handle on that one has been a little harder for me.  I discovered a mental model just today that works well for me, but I’ll address that as a separate topic in another post.

Over the years, I would vacillate between mindlessly adopting my battlefield mentality and hitting some pinnacle of irrational road rage that would set me back on the path of mindful driving before I would get lax and the cycle would start over again.  Mindless driving always seemed to coincide with mindless living – going through the motions without any real sense of purpose; feeling unfulfilled while continuing to follow the same course because I didn’t know what else to do.  When I felt unfulfilled by the life I was living, it took all my energy just to get through the day – I didn’t have any left over to devote to becoming the person I wanted to be.  In that way, by making choices that left me unfulfilled and drained me of all my energy, one bad decision begot another in a vicious downward spiral of self-sabotage.

This was where I was at before I quit my job.  I was unfulfilled.  It took all my energy just to get through the day.  I did NOT want to deal with jerky drivers, and I tolerated them poorly.  That changed dramatically when I made the conscious, mindful, fulfilling decision to leave my job.  I don’t want to say driving became a joy, because that’s not true, but it became much easier for me to view driving and other drivers with compassion.  It wasn’t as much of a chore or annoyance as it had been, it was just something I did to get my goals accomplished.  I could more easily forgive jerky drivers because I’d been in their shoes before, I knew where they were coming from, I knew what that felt like, and, most importantly, because I wasn’t there anymore.  Not being in that position anymore was like stepping out of the Matrix or something – I can see what they’re doing, I know why they’re doing it, and I can see how fruitless and futile it is, something I couldn’t see when I was still in the Matrix with them.  Jerky drivers are still jerky, they just don’t affect me like they used to.

Changing how I saw my job and how it related to my overall sense of well-being helped me to change how I see driving.  I no longer choose to see driving as me being entitled and everyone else being in my way (I think I adopted (unconsciously) that view as a means of keeping my mind occupied with distractions so I could avoid dealing with the real issues in my life).  Instead, I’m free to see driving for what it is – a useful tool for getting stuff done.  Sitting in traffic doesn’t bother me like it used to.  I don’t need to jockey for position.  I don’t even need to speed anymore!  I mean, I still do, but less than I used to, and I’m more willing slow down instead of speeding up to negotiate traffic.

Of course, I haven’t yet found myself in a situation where I was running late to something I felt I couldn’t be late to.  I’ll let you know how that goes.

TL;DR:  Hypocrite jerk driver finds that unemployment and impending homelessness REDUCES stress, becomes less jerky driver.