The Human Machine vs. The Human Garden

Popular Psychology, the kind practiced by most people, sees the Human Mind as a machine. We have buttons that get pushed, triggers that get pulled, or whatever else that might get our pistons going. It is often our excuse. “You caused me to lose my temper!” As I have grown older, I find the analogy fails. It fails primarily in it's effectiveness in our relationships. We often hear people describe themselves as "incompatible" as if each was a piece of hardware. It's an easy way to remove culpability from either party. The truth is that the situation is always much more messy because the situation is much more organic. Instead, we should think of the Human Mind in terms of a garden. To be sure, each mind is fertile for certain weeds just as it is fertile for certain flowers. Therefore a mind is not a thing to be “fixed” but a thing to be tended. When the weeds of corruption grow, we can’t look for a broken gear. We have to look for our gloves. We have to tear them out. Sometimes the weeds overcome us. Sometimes we become lazy and let them grow. Sometimes we deny they are weeds at all and promote their growth. But the analogy holds. My love for my wife has been a tree in my garden for many years. Before I knew it, weeds were all around that Tree of Love and I dealt with them the best way I knew how. I did not know what I was doing. I often thought of it more as an act of the will or a wall holding back the oceans that threatened to drown us. At times, when the walls were cracking and the floods were threatening, I could only invoke Kipling’s words and say,

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

knowing, as Kipling said, that this is what it meant to be a man. It still is. What I wish I had known from the beginning was that the oceans and armies were of my own making. I wish that I had known that it wasn’t the world that threatened us. It was the weeds. I realize that sometimes we make it look easy, and when that tree is strong, it really is. Try not to read into this any extraordinary marital problems. We have our share but not as bad as some. However, would be a lie to say that it is always easy. And what’s more it wasn’t easy because I let the tree be covered in vines. Sometimes it seemed like it might actually topple. But they were my vines. I always had the power to tear them out by the roots. I do not say I had the power to eradicate them. I am fertile ground. But I should have always kept them in check. At the first shoot I should have torn them out. Now I know. And what do we do when the ground is dusty, the good plants are turning brown and our crops of fruits are threatened? We do what every good gardener does. We pray for rain. And that is how I have finally come to understand what Grace is. Let it rain.

Confession on the Breath...

I was reading this blog post from Logismoi (It seems that piggy backing is becoming a habit, my apologies). I must admit that I'm not terribly familiar with Papadiamandis, but I find Logismoi's argument to be intriguing in asserting that Papadiamandis is still "saintly" regardless of his bad habits. I think perhaps I can use this to shed some light on my 'angry man'.

I mentioned before that I had a way of focusing the 'angry man' into a display of righteous indignation. Much of this, I believe, is for the benefit of my 'character'. We all love a protagonist with a just cause. The problem is that my motives aren't always so noble. I have said "Thou fool' (Matthew 5:22) in many ways over the years. I have brow-beaten and bullied many an adversary, and made many an enemy in debate.

Just as the alcoholic might hide his addiction under pretense of fun, I hide my anger under pretense of moral authority. The difference is that I could theoretically maintain the "show" for my entire life. Addiction has a way of forcing itself to the surface. The alcoholic will most often have to come to grips at some point with his or her need. Friends and family will likewise become aware. My "normal human behavior" is deadly to me but easily accepted (even applauded) in the world in which we live, alcoholism is not so easily accepted. Therefore, I might concede that the alcoholic has a better 'shot' at Salvation than I do. My 'angry man' leads to the 'prideful man' (another target). The alcoholic leads to the 'broken man' which is much closer to where I should be starting. I had to have my greatest enemy revealed to me in Confession. The fallen alcoholic carries his confession on his breath.

Of course, I am not an alcoholic and I cannot venture much further into what such a struggle might entail. Let it suffice for now to know that my being such a 'normal person' has its dangers. The world in which we operate places value in some of the very things which I must reject about myself. Modern society sees long-suffering as a sign of weakness, when recent experience tells me quite the opposite. It is extremely difficult NOT to defend oneself against the odd 'unfairness' in the world. Beyond, that, it takes nothing short of Grace to actually allow for the idea that we are not entitled to get our way. Am I advocating being the world's doormat? No. My goal in destroying the 'angry man' is to grow beyond knee jerk reactions to the odd inconvenience, to see past my own desires and passions. The 'angry man' makes me hang on when I should be letting go.