Welcome.
I'm Stacey Matson,
And this is part of the Let's Think About series.
Lately,
I've been thinking about the subject of having my way,
And it all began with a story.
While wandering in Wonderland,
Lewis Carroll's Alice has an exchange with the Queen of Hearts that goes as such.
The Queen asks Alice where she comes from,
And as Alice begins to explain,
Well,
I'm trying to find my way home.
The Queen roars in interruption,
Your way?
All the ways here are my ways.
And she got me thinking.
When I hear the use of the term,
My way,
As in,
I'm just going about my way,
Or,
Then he was in my way,
I've never taken much notice of the possessive word,
My.
My attention has always been drawn to the noun,
Way.
For some reason,
Though,
This time I heard it differently.
And I realized that a language of ownership is carelessly tossed around in our day-to-day lives.
The other day someone was expecting me at their house,
And they wanted to know if I had left yet,
So I casually texted,
On my way,
Giving thought only to the words on,
As in,
I have left,
And way,
As in,
Toward your house.
But not to the possessive my in between.
I could have just as accurately used the term the in place of my,
But I didn't.
We are almost 8 billion humans at this point,
Which means we have almost 8 billion different ways to go about this thing called living.
It's inevitable that traveling along the plane of my personal path,
Called my way,
Will cause me to intersect with your way at some point.
When this happens,
And we are both unexpectedly and perhaps irritatingly interrupted by the other,
The question is,
Who is in whose way?
We can't both claim the possessive my of that singular spot.
This intersecting point can be a literal spot on the planet,
A logical sticking point in differing opinions,
Or an emotional intersection at two diverging points of view.
A common modern-day irritation is having our way stopped by inconvenient red traffic lights.
So often when running behind schedule,
Often due to our own actions,
The inconvenience of being halted repeatedly while cruising along on our way is obnoxious.
So many times people speak of anger,
Frustration,
And even hatred at those lights and the people that get in their way.
When sitting in standstill highway backlog,
I have often cursed my bad luck,
Not having allotted extra travel time for delays.
I've told others I had no idea traffic was this bad and I've sent messages such as,
On my way,
Stuck in traffic.
Drivers surround me on all sides,
Slowing speeds down to an interminable pace.
Traffic happens to me.
The other motorists happen to me.
However,
As I look at the lane on my right,
Another driver's impatience is growing as she says,
Oh,
Now I'm stuck in traffic.
We mirror each other in emotional experience.
Except she's talking about me.
I'm happening to her.
On my left,
Another busy person texts their friend,
Terrible traffic will be late.
And he too is talking about me.
I'm happening to him.
I'm not in traffic.
I am traffic.
Sheer statistical fact dictates that no one person can have their way at all times.
It simply isn't possible,
Nor is it even probable.
Knowing this very concrete fact of life,
I'm thinking there's a better way to view those halting inconveniences.
Realizing that when one person does not get their way means that another person somewhere is getting theirs can change our entire experience.
As I travel on my individual plane,
Or two-dimensional surface that extends infinitely far in all directions and meet another person at an inconveniently intersecting point,
I often hope it's my turn to glide along.
Since beginning this examination on getting my way,
I've made a point to notice the times when the world makes room for me and allows me to move fluidly without halting interruption.
Waiting lines that move quickly,
Exchanges that take less time than I thought,
Green lights one after another,
Tasks involving much less work than I was steeled for,
And so on.
Now that my vision is honed to spot them,
I see them everywhere.
And because I enjoy that feeling of worldly expansiveness so much,
I now see that when I'm being stopped,
Another person somewhere is getting to enjoy that feeling of expansiveness for themselves.
It is their turn for the world to open for them and allow them to move without hindrance.
My halt at the red light enables the cross traffic to move.
My waiting at the red light enables the other person to have their way.
Through probability and statistics,
It is guaranteed to become my turn again at some point.
If I decide to enjoy when anyone gets their way,
Instead of only the moments when I get mine,
It's much easier to see the necessity of my halting.
My thoughts on this matter were piqued another day as I played a board game one afternoon with five children,
Two of whom were from the same family.
Theirs is a fiercely competitive family,
And this shows in their reactions with each roll of the dice.
They revel in their wins,
And they delight in another's losses.
Every time any player rolled a desired number,
I was excited for them,
Cheering and saying things such as,
Wonderful!
That's exactly the one you needed!
One of the children was so confused as to why I would take delight when someone else got ahead,
Especially if it meant they were beating me.
I thought about it,
And I explained that if I'm happy only about my own wins,
I have a 50-50 chance of being happy once every six turns.
But if I'm happy at everyone's win,
I have a 50-50 chance of being happy all six turns,
And I just enjoy those odds so much more.
Every opportunity is created because of a deficit of another kind.
There simply can't be a surplus of all things,
All experiences,
All ways.
When I choose to take notice and find delight in the times when others get their way,
Suddenly what was once a personal affront to me is now a cosmic contribution to another person's joy.
And that's what I want to think about,
The next time,
I am traffic.
