09 August 20XX+1
My Dear Lucilius
I received a rebuke today from my wife. It was rather remarkable in that 1) I am not used to rebukes in general; and 2) I am certainly not used them from my wife (well, at least for a long time anyway).
The genesis of the issue is the rather large amount of time and anxiety I have been spending over the last month about this issue with the wheat. It has consumed my conversation and my thoughts, constantly walking through potential scenarios and logistics and calculations about quantity of wheat per bushel and per person. On the one hand, I have a lot more information on wheat from my old references than I ever remember reading there before (although I am sure it was there); on the other hand it is all that I have thought about lately.
Pompeia Paulina gently asked once or twice why I was spending so much time and energy on this. “Because” was my well reasoned response.
Oh, in my mind there were several “becauses”. Because I had the knowledge. Because I cared. Because someone had to do the work. Because if I did not, someone else would not.
Because.
Finally today, my wife got cross with me as I was sitting there redoing calculations and mileage. She sat down at the table, put her hands on the pen and paper I was using, and said “Stop”.
I looked at her, almost in disbelief. “Stop?” I responded.
“Stop” she replied. “Stop worrying about this. This is not your responsibility.”
“But” I started to interject, ready with my reasons and becauses.
“This is not your responsibility” she said. “You are not the sole planning agency for this town, let alone an entire valley of people. No-one asked you for this. No-one expected this of you. You are doing this on your own. And the lack of focus on the here and now – our here, our now – is an issue.”
“But…” I tried again, slightly weaker this time.
“You sir” – with a pointed finger, no less – “have appropriated responsibility that is not yours. Tell me, if you had not thought of this wheat, what would have happened?”
I thought for a second. “Well, other than not having this wheat, I suppose everything would have been the same. People would be working to find and figure out food for the Winter.”
“So, this would have been invisible to everyone? And life would have gone on the way it was?”
“Well, yes – but in finding that we had it, who knows how much food-”
She cut me off. “No-one knows. No-one can guess. And likely, no-one else does guess. Your concern is admirable. I love that you care so much about others. But allowing that to dominate your thinking – to sit there and figure and guess weather and how far away and how it will get back – all things that are outside of your control – does no good. All it does is take you away from here. And now. And me.”
With that, she left the room.
Sitting alone at a table amid the rubble of a theoretical project is made much more poignant by the silence that fills such a discussion afterwards.
It stuck, of course. After apologizing to her – profusely, and as note apologizing to a crying wife is much harder than I ever remember it being – I walked over to Young Xerxes’ and let him know that I would watch my grain, but that would be all. It was for someone else to work out.
“That's okay" he responded. "Other people are working on that. No-one expected you to."
Ah, rebuke times two.
There are things we can control, Lucilius, and things we cannot, things that we can directly impact and things that we cannot impact but we take responsibility for.
I need to be better about determining the difference between the two.
Your Obedient Servant, Seneca
Senecas started the wheat ball rolling, was "volunteered" to go with the search party and we act "surprised" he feels involved in the FOOD survival of his new extended family AKA fellow survivors?
ReplyDeleteAlmost like completing a task isn't a noble task, unless it takes time away from his wife?
Curious sub plot.
I do not know that we are to be surprised, Michael. I know that the "surprise" is for Seneca. He did not think of the ramifications of all of this time and energy on his new marriage (remember, in story time still only married something like four months). I am relatively sure this is not the relationship that his wife signed up for - from her point of view, she has a new home, a new husband, a new son-in-law, and undoubtedly is concerned about all of them. The fact that her husband seems disassociated - especially now that Autumn is on the brink of happening in a place where Winter can come as early as the end of September - is probably weighing on her mind as well.
DeletePart of writing, at least writing for me, is listening to what the characters say. Sometimes those words are self obvious to those of us that are reading, as we have a fuller picture.
Well, hard to keep focused on the road far ahead when you miss the bumps and dips where you currently are walking. Guess having to watch FOCUS is the thing, eh? There's a difference 'tween single and married life.
ReplyDeleteNylon12, Seneca is (I think) still used to running his life largely on his own terms, as you note. Being married or in a committed relationship - as anyone that has been in one knows - takes time to accustom one's self to thinking of the other. I know that is something I still struggle with.
DeleteI have been in Seneca's shoes many times before. Most of my life, I have found nobody cares as much as I do about many a thing and so I have been conditioned to doing it myself if I want it done right.
ReplyDeleteEd, I have as well. In reality, I sometimes delude myself into the importance that it has and will spend valuable time working on that rather than the things I should be working on.
DeleteI think this is a good example of why man wasn't created to be alone (woman either, for that matter). We need that "opposite" perspective for balance, among other things.
ReplyDeleteLeigh, I work in a department that is mostly female now, and have spent the bulk of my life in a household that the same. I do not know why it strikes me this time, but the styles of working are very different - not wrong, just different.
DeleteI have often joked that if I had not married The Ravishing Mrs. TB, I would be living in a small apartment with no furniture and nothing but books. At least I have furniture now...