I Can’t Say That I’m Surprised

Though I would like to be . . .

The world is not a very surprising place, at least in terms of human behavior. We are creatures of habit whose patterns have changed but little over the millennia. This admittedly cynical belief appears to hold true in the pragmatic sense, viewed in the day-to -day actions of those who have become accustomed to life in the rut. It holds true in the emotional sense, the instant replay of romance, attraction, and departure. It holds true in the utter redundancy of the press, in our choices of entertainment, in the philosophical outlooks we espouse, in the public and private temper tantrums resulting from perceived affronts . . .

It makes me wonder how back-street psychics and palm readers make a living, for there is little in this life that cannot be predicted with a half-decent sense of accuracy.

I have developed a theory that many social problems arise from sheer boredom, a dissatisfaction with a life spent chasing a piece of cheese in a cardboard maze, a lack of surprise. The abuse of drugs and alcohol do not strike me so much a sickness as an attempt to alleviate a lingering sense of ennui and stagnation. The only trouble with escaping one’s troubles via chemical assistance is that there is no person more repugnant than a hard-core drunk.

Take it from one who used to deal with drunks on a regular basis (I once owned a rib joint/bar in a backwoods, Idaho town where I’m pretty sure few of the family trees had forks). There are few things less enjoyable than enduring hydraulically-enhanced angst, bouts of insane laughter, bad jokes, crying jags, sports debates, car comparisons, arguments over the color of air, and the same slurred story 20 times in one afternoon.

It could drive a body to drink.

Violence? I don’t think it’s root cause is poverty. I think it stems from folks who have become accustomed to poverty, who are bored silly, lack the gumption or courage to institute change, and extend their anger at themselves to any convenient target. After all, it’s much easier to rage against others than to improve your own lot. Much easier to swing an ax handle or fire a gun than get a job or read a book. Much easier to destroy than create.

Which brings us to the recent state - at least over the past four years - of American culture. A lack of surprise is particularly glaring in regard to those whose life’s ambition revolves around molding and controlling the thoughts and actions of others.

Such people are usually of the progressive, liberal, and “Woke” ilk.  We can just call them jerks.

There have been, are, and always will be, those who exist to seek power, to acquire wealth, to place themselves upon pedestals and demand adoration from the masses whom they regard as inferior. There’s a certain irony in that trait - so pervasive in celebrities, religious leaders, politicians, and garden-variety Marxists - but it’s really not something I wish to consider too deeply.

Still, it’s a little frightening to think about - until just a few weeks back - how close we were to falling under the tyrannical rule of those whose underlying motivation is a deep-rooted inferiority complex, an authoritarian mindset, and a pathological need to demand reverence from the unwashed masses they so truly despise. We were just inches away from a lifetime of being told to ask “how high” at the order to jump . . . with the full force of the law being rallied against any who failed to comply. We came too close to having a babbling idiot in the Oval Office, a woman who viewed the mass of the electorate as ignorant peasants, and who would gladly destroy the American dream so long as she got to have drinks with Oprah.

I think about these things . . . and then I take a step back. I refuse to let morons live rent-free inside my head. Of course, that’s pretty easy to say since, this time, the good guys won.

Still . . . the truth of the matter is that, in the big picture, none of this external stuff probably matters all that much. From the comfort of knowing we’ll have at least four years of sanity and security, I’m forcing myself to re-learn that simplicity is the world’s greatest treasure. Only from such a perspective does wonder become possible, only from such a perspective does awe take on its purest form.

Frankly, only a few things have ever surprised me - the leaping of a whale, the unexpected appearance of an eagle, my dog learning to toss his own tennis ball, and the rare, totally unsolicited, act of love or kindness. It’s a different approach, and perhaps I’m too hardened to really appreciate these little things in life. Maybe I wouldn’t even know them if I found them.

But, the effort is worth the potential reward.

Who knows . . . maybe I’ll surprise myself.