Indignation is our friend, if we’re keen on bringing our best self to the party.
By indignation I mean “self-righteous condemnation fueled by anger.”
Something is wrong, and we’re pissed about it. From a fly in our soup, to the actions of others so brutal you wonder whether humankind deserves to survive.
My behavior too often suggests that I believe that indignation is necessary to convey my passionate resistance to what I find abhorrent, or undesirable, and sometimes just contrary to my whim.
I know better. I’m right there with those who say the purpose of life is to be happy and reduce the suffering of others. I know in spades that indignation is a distraction to that end. I know, I feel, I experience that it robs me of my peace of mind, abuses my body, and can lead me to spit nastiness at others. I’m a devotee of spiritual practices that help tremendously to calm my mind. And while I’m not nearly the walking hand-grenade I have been, there are moments I’ll find myself pounding the steering wheel while silently yelling at the cretin who, years ago, did that thoughtless thing I can’t quite remember but have yet to forgive. If I catch my face in the rearview mirror, I see just about the ugliest person on earth, which shuts me up quick. Read More
