You.
Me. In all our wondrous onliness.
“The
great suck of self,” author Walker Percy called the internal noise that
complicates our ability to hear. It’s constantly at odds with the instructions
we give our youth, at home and at school—that a person should share, pay
attention to the feelings of others.
We
know those actions don’t always come naturally or easily, even to the women who
do much of the early socialization work, as we try to shape our children into good
citizens, good members of a team.
It
seems, all along, we’re asked to hold contradictory beliefs. We are encouraged
to be an individual, to “be best,” to take our talent as far as it will go. But
also to “get along” with others, set our selfish dreams aside to earn a living,
raise and nurture a new generation of family. If we strive to do both, we’re
accused of “wanting to have it all.”
Today
we find it easy to indulge ourselves. Earbuds give us personal soundtracks.
Streaming allows us to watch movies and sports events alone. Or we can inhabit
the alternative reality of video games, where a heady power lies only a button
away.
We
watch our role models in sports and public life asserting Self, wielding their
power, indulging their ego, when self-control is better for everybody. By now,
I think even Serena Williams would agree. Maybe some of our political leaders
would, too.
Because
unrestricted individualism can go rogue, as it did during a road trip we were
returning from last week. It happened three times, in three distracted acts,
any of which could have caused a highway disaster.
One
oncoming 18-wheeler swerved across the center line toward us on a two-lane road
out of Cameron; a second rig came up fast behind us in North Texas, crossing
into the lane we occupied as though we were not there, pressing us onto the
shoulder.
Closer
to home, it was a large pick-up towing a 20-foot trailer. You know the spot, I
bet, on 290, coming toward Carmine from Brenham. FM 2502 is a left turn, so I’d
moved into the left lane, getting ready. And here comes the pickup from Oevermann Road
on the right, crossing 290 in front of me, stopping for oncoming traffic at the
median, completely oblivious to the steel trailer behind him that blocked my
lane completely. Thank Providence I had good brakes…and an empty lane to my
right.
Was
the first driver reaching for his coffee? Was the second reading his phone? Was
the third simply inexperienced with trailers? Or was each one guilty of
solipsism—egocentric focus on himself, unthinking as a toddler intent on the
cookie jar?
The
distractions of our gadgets reward our solipsism. But we have to resist. We
have to postpone the relief from boredom that our smart phones provide when
we’re behind the wheel. We have to pay attention to the laws that underpin our way
of life.
The
alternative is chaos. And somebody, all too often, dies.
