Archive | December, 2012

On apologising: respect the sorry!

9 Dec

not-sorry_20081216-1458I recently received a sorry email from an individual who had, among other things, threatened to kick my fucking head in. As police were involved, I was pretty sure the apology was made more with potential court proceedings in mind, than as an expression of regret for threatening me with physical violence. It turned out I was right, and the sorry email was taken into account by the magistrate though its alleged author was still found guilty of intimidation. I write “alleged” because I found it very difficult to reconcile the language of the email with what I know of the offender.

I also recently wrote a sorry email to a pompous, arrogant medical specialist who refused to treat a patient because he (the pompous arrogant specialist) was engaged in a dispute with me. I wasn’t in the least bit sorry for what I’d said to the specialist and would say it again in a heartbeat, but he had me over a barrel. I apologised, and he agreed to treat the patient. Now that the treatment is over and we won’t be needing him again, I’m reporting him to the Health Care Complaints Commission. The contempt I continue to feel for that medical specialist and his pathetic need to make me say a sorry he knows damn well I don’t mean by refusing treatment to someone I love, is profound.

This is a rare situation in my adult life, when I’ve said I’m sorry when I’ve absolutely known I’m not. Sometimes I’ve said sorry, only to realise later I wasn’t and had simply reacted in the emotion of the moment, or because I was scared. Quite often I’ve had to apologise because I’ve been out of line. That’s never easy, but it’s a good thing to live with. Being bullied into apologies is not.

Letters threatening defamation action frequently include a demand for apology, usually public. What does this mean? It’s obvious that if an apology must be demanded, nobody is feeling especially sorry. If it is an attempt on the part of the offended person to bring humiliation down upon the offender it doesn’t work, because in my case I offer the apology feeling nothing but increased contempt.

The apology is, in these circumstances, a species of  Pyrrhic victory. If I am to be bullied or blackmailed into saying I’m sorry, who is the loser? It’s not me, it’s the deluded twerp who believes they’ve achieved something by forcing me to say I’m sorry when I’m not.

There are times when one may apologise in full knowledge of one’s insincerity, in order to achieve a greater goal. I have no problem with this, it’s a matter of conscience and circumstance. There is, however, something very distasteful about those who attempt to bully and blackmail others into making apologies. The clue is, if you have to demand it, it probably isn’t authentic so why do you want it and what does it say about you, that you’re willing to settle for such insincerity?

When an apology is made from the heart, and with regret for an action, it is a precious thing. It is something to be treasured, and it can heal much. Forced apologies only devalue the authentic sorry. Yet it is such a central part of our social discourse to demand an apology, as if appearances are all that counts.

There’s currently someone in my life demanding an apology that I have no intention of offering. The cost to me will be high. I’ve spent many hours considering the best course of action. In this instance, I’ve decided the worst thing I can do for both of us is to allow this person to bully me into mouthing sorries I don’t mean, and I don’t feel are warranted. Indeed, the very fact that it is being demanded of me or else, tells me this relationship has nowhere much to go.

I want to treat the sorry with the respect it deserves. I want to honour the sorry, and only use it when I mean it. The sorry is a thing of great beauty, to be used sparingly and always with consideration and intention. It is a sad thing, to see the sorry reduced to a meaningless convention, used to blackmail, bully and humiliate.  Is it too late to Respect the Sorry?

 

 

Hey, Mr Tamborine Man

3 Dec

Tambourine Man

 

(With thanks to @ForrestGumpp for the title, and for reminding me of Dylan’s song)

I’m sitting in the Mt Tamborine library, availing myself of free wireless for three hours. It’s the most delightful little library I’ve seen in a long time, the kind of library in children’s story books with jolly librarians and interesting-looking customers. Something fantastical could happen in this library.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship…

Mrs Chook sits opposite me, researching some nasty-sounding nasal surgery she’s been guaranteed will fix her blocked nose. She keeps asking me to tell her if she ought to have it done or not, but why anyone would ask my opinion on something like that, let alone someone who knows me as well as Mrs Chook does,  I don’t know. I can’t even decide what to have for breakfast, after four months of sustained stress that has left me exhausted, and second-guessing every step I take.

My weariness amazes me…

We’re here because my Archie family has just moved up from the coast to live here, but now they’ve gone to Hawaii and we’re looking after the dogs and luxuriating in the panoramic views from their front windows, views that stretch from the Gold Coast to Mt Warning. It’s  about five degrees cooler than the coast and a good deal less humid. Watching the sun rise out of the sea made me teary this morning. Followed by a hike through an enchanting palm grove with enormous and ancient red carabeen trees, then coffee, lime and coconut scones at a North Tamborine cafe and the world is looking a whole lot better than it did a few days ago.

Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow…

In the forest we startled large groups of what look like very small wallabies, Mrs Chook is researching them as well to find out what they are. They squatted, staring at us gravely and with surprising trust.

We just had a fight about a picture she says is them and I say isn’t. This may not end well.

I haven’t watched the news, read a paper, or given a stuff about politics and politicians, so I have nothing to contribute to whatever is going on. All I know is when you just can’t take anymore, head for the natural world and immerse.

Let me forget about today until tomorrow…

But…Campbell Newman is doing his best to stuff up Queensland’s natural beauty, and the mayor of the Gold Coast is trying for a cable car from Surfers to the top of the mountain. It never feckin ends, does it?

Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.
 
Though I know that evenin’s empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street’s too dead for dreaming.
 
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to 
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.
 
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin’
I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it.
 
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to 
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.
 
Though you might hear laughin’, spinnin’ swingin’ madly across the sun
It’s not aimed at anyone, it’s just escapin’ on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin’
And if you hear vague traces of skippin’ reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it’s just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn’t pay it any mind, it’s just a shadow you’re
Seein’ that he’s chasing.
 
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to 
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.
 
Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.
 
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to 
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.
 
Bob Dylan