(image courtesy of @third_eye_thirst)
I’m a pretty nice guy. I didnt use to think that, but I actually am – I see that more clearly now, and I hear it. I guess it comes with age – the age of myself, and the age of my peers – finally at age 30ish reaching a level of adultness where we can actually talk truth, spitting it however way we see it. And then standing there, breathing, waiting for the blowback, the hot, dry southern storm, the cold northern breeze – a tornado of emotions tearing everything apart on its way – except you, the eye of the tornado, standing still among the chaos, just observing, just waiting… Alert – ready for whatever will come out of this mess… Waiting for it to clear – all the shit you have been carried around – a never ending enema.
There’s a difference though, between being ‘pretty nice’, and ‘Mr Nice’. All of my previous life I have probably been more in the category of Mr Nice guy – excruciatingly eager to please – please anyone – any one else – except myself.
I still have some of that. Of course I do, it is a part of me. See I actually like being nice, I like going to great extents to try help people… ‘Trying to help people’…. hahahaha! Yeah, that is exactly the sound of the broken record, trapped in the loop of nonsensical help – oh so many people to help. Oh how I have helped, smiling faces everywhere… Oh and the horror it has brought, people who thought they could rely on my help indefinitely, readily available without them having to do anything for it – their God sent them a present, of course, entitled by birth. “Dear God, something is wrong with this Mr Nice Guy you sent us, after just 33 years he no longer does what we tell him to and he is even starting to demand things like breaks, rest, food, shelter and time to himself. Please send another one that does not have this problem”.
Help is not always a good thing if you dont understand the subtler social dynamics. ‘Help’, when done the wrong way, turns people – women, men and children – into deeper dependencies, confusion and despair. Independence not achieved – not for anyone.
I’m happy for those experiences. And I’m happy I’m still alive. Life is precious. My life is precious. I’m thankful for my education too. The scientific method – forming hypotheses and testing them logically and rigorously – accepting the conclusions as they are because you know you did your best in the process. Knowing that true conclusions requires honest action. A single Yes or a single No – sets the course for the rest of your life. A life spent pursuing truth and honest relations, is a life well lived.
Speak love. Steadfast.
Nice Guys of the world – unite! Get in touch! Let me help you 🙂
We take care of her
That is the literal meaning of her name. The beautiful woman that I met a while back. She is the youngest of her family – one older sister and many brothers.
I fell in love with her from day one – how can these emotions be so powerful. We talked, we laughed, she shared her food with me – life was wonderful that week. I wanted to stay but I had to go. I promised I would always be there for her if she needed anything – in my mind I thought that I could help her become a successful independent woman. I could give her all my knowledge. I could help her. I could tell her how to do everything. I could help her. She was working 2 full time jobs and earning 19.75 USD per month. This is not Europe – she told me that many times. I thought I understood, I think I understand, but that should not prevent me from helping her. I must take care of her.
I helped her get a shop. Then she can be her own boss and sell things at a profit – easy… the shop was demolished due to expansion of the road. Shop owners are not compensated. She sold her inventory to another guy, but have still not collected the money.
I helped her friend get a job collecting and selling special stones in a neighbouring city… then she could be a manager of that affair…? Her friend didnt want to work there anyway, and when he did work there it appeared that he did not earn enough to share.
I helped her get a small kitchen in a club to make and sell food… people are always hungry – easy money…. apparently the cost of running the kitchen cancels out the profit so she is down to 1.37 USD per month.
So, all things considered equal, my ‘help’ appears to have put her worse off than if she never knew me. At least she is self-employed now…. Poor thing.
I know this last section was very condescending. As much as I love her I am also getting very bitter – a very very vile bitterness every time we talk. It is not healthy. I do not recommend it. I think writing it out helps me until I find a better course of action. What to do?