The First Strokes of my Treatise on Sour

Recently (as of this last evening) I have decided that I am engaging in a campaign of self-deceit. The truth is, much to the contrary of my own motivating intuitions, I am not chipper enough.

In fact, I am often just downright sour. Worse still, I tend to have little patience when in a sour mood. Fortunately for those suffering through my few during-the-day encounters this sourness is mostly manifest at home, leaving my wife and mother-in-law to reckon as to the cause, or to just give up and focus on the positive. This is certainly not just: my mother-in-law, in particular, is quite often working hard to be "helpful" or "not be a bother" or to just "get out of the way." And credit to her deep humility, she can be politely self-effacing in the process. Most probably, she is unaware that such behavior often contributes to my sourness.

Until now, my tendency has been to find an external cause for these moments (sometimes prolonged, I confess), e.g., stress, someone else’s behavior, fatigue, even intense focus on a project – as an excuse to eschew the niceties of a pleasant outward disposition. The truth is, however, that I often just feel like operating in a space uncluttered by other human beings – and I am most incapable of flashing a smile when I don’t feel cheerful and magnanimous (yes, I know, seemingly odd word choice, but accurate). And, of course, a dearth of deep humility prevents suffering perceived foolishness gladly. Tack on a recognition of a somewhat piercing insight into the motivations of my intimates, and you end up with sour—like rotten sour, not tart, but like rotten cheese/milk sour.

This lack of Zenny cheerfulness is a concern that has grown in importance as my latest psychological self-improvement project over the last few months. And at those times that I have considered it constructive to think or talk about it, I have mostly longed nostalgic of a time when in a less satisfying professional “space” I felt the inner chipper chirp more loudly. A couple of years ago, discovering myself in abject luxury working in a white shoe law firm and experiencing the slow melt of years of anxiety over finances, but deeply troubled by the social/moral significance of the application of my talents, I found myself often cheerful (though often not) – and now (as of last night) believe that my occasional sunniness was a result of a disciplined approach to my situation.

[Secondly, there are some individuals that receive a cheerful response always. What is it about my encounters with them that cause me to want to be cheerful? I have no answers to this right now.]

I have fortunately decided that occasionally acting sour is not an isolated question of authenticity of feeling, but a question of: overall happiness; commitments to decreasing suffering in the world and sharing joy with my family; and fear of the long-term effects of an outlook either driven by unmitigated will—or id-diness. There’s an aphorism that explains this fear -- by own’s self the bitter is suffered or the sweet enjoyed; the cheerful or sour feel by themselves; no one can brighten or darken another (roughly paraphrased). And I also agree with the idea that little mean deeds are like water drops, them seem insignificance at any moment, but have tremendous effect (sometimes irreversible) over time.

But what to do? At the firm, I started with a plan – to create a pleasant workplace environment. I knew that my time there was limited, that I felt extreme guilt for applying my talents there and not in the public interest, and I felt that I had seldom enjoyed my workplace with other jobs. So, my plan was to be super-positive with everyone all the time. I reasoned that if interactions with me were always positive for the other person, that immediate positive reinforcement would create a happier atmosphere (and create a little breathing room if I ever needed it, or screwed up an assignment, worked less than others, etc.). I honestly believed, and believe, that these results were achieved. But, my memory also includes a thrilling sense of detachment that felt like a form of power over my condition – I felt like a disengaged observer wondering at the marvel of my life. I have not until now imagined a causal relation between these two parts of my life at that time, viz., a consistent practice and discipline in outward expression of my mood and an inner feeling of joy.

So, fair warning to you all. Expect nonchalance, cheeriness, mixed with principled distance and engagement, and expect compassion. At least sometimes – and if this is not the treatment you receive, you have my permission to remind me of my commitment. Though don’t be surprised if I bite your head off when you do.