Zen first 🧘 fight later🤺

A kind word turns away wrath - proverbs 15:1

It was the day after my first Zen retreat, I was feeling pretty ‘Zen’ (a misused description, but you get the picture) and felt very fortunate to have had the experience, an experience that I hope to write about here sometime. All was—well, I guess you could say that all was calm— or so I thought, until the universe decided to teach me a lesson.

I’d gone out for a walk with my daughter straight after work. That part of the day where you’ve finished work and you should be relieved, be happy, but you’ve not quite made it there. A kind of strange, uncomfortable, decompression zone that you have to pass through before you can settle into the final part of your day.

We’d set off up the road and onto the country lane. The one you have to navigate before you peel off onto the unpaved tracks and footpaths that lead you to the fields.

I’d noticed the speed of some of the cars in their haste to make it home on this Friday night. This is something that I have observed before and me and my wife often discuss that this time is always a crazy time on the roads, and you have to watch your step.

As we approached the little white cottage with the walled garden, abundant with wild roses and fuchsias, bobbing and swaying slowly in the late summer breeze, I became aware of a car hurtling at speed towards me. Not that unusual for this part of the lane. The driver saw me and slowed rapidly, good I thought, but that was a crazy speed to be driving. I’d stepped to the side so he could pass, checked my daughter was out of the way then looked up objectionably at the car. The car whisked by, screeched to a halt, and before I’d made another two steps an aggressive tirade of speech spat and spewed out of the car window towards me.

I turned around, annoyed, and shrugged my shoulders, my palms facing up to the sky — RIDICULOUS !! I said, protesting at his outburst.

The car door opened and a man in his late 30’s got out, well built with black hair, black joggers, black t-shirt, looking like he was on his way back from the gym, where as well as pumping weights and popping steroids he probably indulged in the odd sunbed.

‘You F***n dickhead, you thought I was driving too fast and you looked at me! Don’t f***n look at me you f***n prick.’

What an odd thing to say, I thought to myself. My trainee therapist brain kicked in and noticed that this man, who I had never met, was telling me what my thoughts were, and with total conviction. I kind of slipped into a strange observer bubble and watched and waited for things to unfold.

‘Yeh whatever’ I heard myself say to him as I started to walk back towards the scene. Not helpful. And why was I walking towards him?

‘You what?’, the bloke said ‘you f***n what?’

‘I was just trying to get out of the way’ I said, leaning forward ‘I wasn’t looking at you, I was looking at the car that was speeding towards me and trying to get out of the way’.

‘No you weren’t, you were f***n looking at me’

‘No I wasn’t, I was just trying to get out of the way, but whatever, see you later’ I said, heart beating and adrenaline kicking in hard. At this point I was really hoping for him to turn around and get back into his car so we could move on from this insane situation, but for some reason I just stood there, desperately willing for him to disappear… but he didn’t!

‘C’mon then you f***n prick, I’ll f***n finish you’

‘Yeh whatever’ I found myself saying to him again. How is this helpful - I thought to myself.

I decided at this point to turn slowly away from him - perhaps hoping for de-escalation, an end to the conflict.

‘Go on, walk away’ he said, goading me.

‘I am walking away, you walk away ‘ I said turning back towards him and standing my ground.

At this point I was starting to wonder how all this would actually end. I am no fighter, I don’t know how to fight, I have no desire to hit someone, not in reality anyhow. I don’t even know how to hit someone. He was getting very close by now and I could practically see the veins popping out of the side of his thick neck.

‘I’ll f***n smash you. Walk away’ he said, gesturing at the floor and shooing me away with his hand, like I was some sort of diseased animal. ‘Go on f**k off’

‘I am walking away, Jesus !!’ I said, yet I was turning back towards him, trying to communicate that even though I will be walking away, I will be walking away when I want to walk away.

Various potential outcomes flickered through my mind. Are we going to have a fight?, surely not. Is he actually going to come and attack me? I reckon I am about six inches taller than him, will he stretch up for the face or sucker punch me in the stomach? It was the not knowing how things would play out that was really starting to bother me. But that’s the thing about life, we never know how it will play out. In this moment, everything felt condensed and critical. I needed to know the end of the story in order to know how to act.

I was left with a choice. Continue this ridiculous back and forth, which I was now firmly complicit in, or leave.

I turned slowly away, and all of a sudden the atmosphere changed. It was as though a bubble had burst into a mist and enveloped my opponent with a mood of victoriousness. He’d won the fight. He was rolling his hands forward, like he was laying out his own red carpet, getting ready to receive his adoration, there was something amusing and strangely elegant about it. I stopped and turned my head to get a better look at him.

‘I knew it’, he said, as we locked eyes ‘I knew you were a f***n pussy’

‘Yeh whatever’ I said, one more time and started to make my way up the lane, my mind desperately trying to shrug off the insult. I don’t care what he says, I lied to myself.

I was angry, really angry, yet my mind had immediately told me that this was over. It came out of the universe and the situation unfolded the way it was going to unfold, and now it was gone. It was totally gone and no longer existed, other than in the mind. I told myself that it wasn’t about him and it wasn’t about me, it was anger and frustration. I told myself that I’d tried to win, he’d tried to win, we had pecked at each other, growled at each other, each of us vying for dominance. I have to accept that I was responsible for throwing the fat into an already raging fire.

Should I have just bowed my head down and walked away when he started hurling abuse at me? Well, no. Probably not.

At the Zen retreat I had discussed with one of my teachers that I can do the nice guy thing but I didn’t want to be a pushover. This mental toughness was something that had come up over and over again during meditation. Being nice is not necessarily a virtue. It can sometimes be a coping mechanism for fear, It can be a passive aggressive mask, people pleasing, surface agreeableness when courageous honesty is required.

In my life I have learnt that genuine kindness might be a better trait to hone. Kindness requires you to act in a courageous and wise way. This leads to much better outcomes for myself and everyone around me.

Could this decision of mine, to walk back towards him actually have been a result of my Zen practice? Oh great! I have meditated so much that I am now going to get into fights with people.

Perhaps I was practising courage, not acting from a place of fear but rather trying to engage fully with the situation. Just as when a child haphazardly attempts a new skill, my actions were full of mistakes and naivety. I had been foolish in my interaction yet just maybe, I had failed enough in this brief moment to enable me to act with wisdom next time.

The next day. (back to calm)

The next day while wandering around the RHS gardens with my wife, hands behind my back, doing the, as my wife calls it, my national trust walk, I wondered what to make of it all. I wondered what the angry guy did with his Sundays. Did he also watch escape to the country and the antiques roadshow after a late lunch.

I thought about how we should act, in the face of aggression and violence? How should we stand up to bullies?

I decided that I didn’t know the answers to any of these questions and that the best thing I could do is enjoy the plants, butterflies, feel myself breathing in and out and remember that things come and things go and that’s the way it will always be.

Maybe next time I find myself in a situation like this, I can approach it with more peace. This doesn’t mean shrinking away or backing down - it means speaking with honesty and courage but not trying to get the last word in or win.

‘You were driving dangerously fast and could have really hurt someone. I understand you're angry and didn’t like the way I looked at you, but I'm not your enemy. Please slow down and drive safely. Then continued on my way, wishing them well.

But to reference my wife for the second time — when I was complaining that I hadn’t handled the situation properly, she looked at me with that expression and said, ‘you’re not the bloody Dalai Lama’ …’yeh…fair point’ I said.

Take care, friends 😊 🙏