I often think about a conversation I had a few years ago. I was talking to a friend about another mutual friend who I hadn't seen. I had met this other friend online during the glory days of Tumblr (RIP) and he was part of a group of gay 'literary bloggers' who periodically convened IRL at Julius' in the West Village to have drinks and argue about books. Post-Tumblr, this friend got heavily into the streets-safety movement in NYC, and I often saw him retweeted and quoted in relation to various scandals related to the city's refusal to help bikers.
I asked my friend how this other friend was doing and if he was still involved in the streets-safety movement. 'No, he quit,' said my friend. 'He stopped biking and now just lives at home with his husband. They travel a lot, and he seems very happy.' It was a surprising trajectory to me, and raised the question to which I now return: is it possible to just stop being angry? Can it be a choice?
I pondered this question as I admired the fall roses in Fort Tryon Park. There's so much to be angry about in the world right now: I'm sure everyone has a list. Beyond politics, and again like everyone else, I have personal reasons to be angry: someone I know said or did something that I found demeaning or insulting or annoying. It's easy to fixate on this kind of thing, but -- thinking of my old bike-safety friend -- do I want to? In the past, when I've been exasperated by certain people or situations, I've often removed myself from the source of my exasperation. I moved to a different neighborhood; I became a (gay) recluse; I found a new job; I stopped engaging with people. And so on.
I love these Japanese anemones, by the way.
But having the ability to remain in the situation and to make the decision not to be angry seems like another level of control. Or is it surrender? Or -- if the context is work -- servitude? Having spent most of my career in an office, I can attest that there are some people who always seem to be angry about something, while others don't seem as encumbered.
As I get older, I have a better understanding of exactly why I could (or should) be angry about certain things, but I also have a better understanding of the extent of my privilege and -- at a more practical level -- the amount of time I have left on the planet, which makes me wonder if it's worth the time and effort to be angry if there's another more pleasant state in which I could pass the time.
When I'm admiring the toad lilies framed by the twisting branches of the elm trees, I feel like the choice is pretty obvious.