Stop, come here, get back on the pavement

After the events of recent years I am beginning to develop a theory on the subject of humiliation. Why humiliation? Because this somewhat unpleasant topic seems to be one of the themes running through my life. I know this all sounds a bit morbid and self-absorbed but my theory does not involve me feeling sorry for myself. Rather it is me stepping back and figuring out what is going on. My theory contains observations of wonder and amazement at how something devastating, embarressing and potentially demoralising can do something magnificent in my character.

 As I am overlooked for promotion, ignored, watch others receive the praise that really was mine as well, or watch others get credit for a project they had little to do with, am denounced as having nothing to offer, put myself in a classroom to learn new skills, all of which can be  rather humiliating occasions, I have two options. I can either get bitter or better. Luckily without really realising it I have mostly allowed the experiences to make me better.

And the conclusion I have come to is  humiliation, if I let it, is the way I learn humility.

Now may I be so bold as to suggest we see this in the lives of people like Mother Theresa and Nelson Mandela. When Mother Theresa went to work and live on the streets of Kolkata with the poorest of the poor humiliation was her companion. Likewise when Nelson Mandela was unjustly imprisioned for a large portion of his life humiliation was closer than his shadow. However, both these history makers learned humility as a result and both are admired and respected for their contribution to humanity.  

Developing a theory on humiliation might be morose but I find it helpful because it prepares me to face humiliation face on and not to run from the lessons it has to teach me. Humiliation stops being an enemy when I embrace it and welcome the not so pleasant truths  it reveals to me about myself.

Maybe one day I will be so humble I will not even notice humiliation.

Cigarette?

I was sitting in a café and out of the window I saw three high school girls, walking past. In the eight seconds or so it took them to pass out of my view I noticed the girl closest to the street offer a three quarters smoked cigarette to the other two. Both declined the proffered gift. (I use the term gift very loosely)

Now appearances can be deceiving but it did look as if all three girls had been smoking the cigarette before they entered the part of the street where the café was. Otherwise why was the cigarette being offered? Who smokes most of a cigarette and then decides to offer it to companions?

Immediately I started to ask myself all sorts of questions. Like what sort of a pupil walks down the street in uniform smoking? What were they thinking? Why would any young person take up smoking when testimonies abound about how hard it is to stop and there is a regular bombardment of information as to how bad smoking is for you? Don’t they care how pathetic they looked? What were they hoping to achieve? What is the principal of the school’s phone number? Did the two girls refuse the cigarette because they saw me staring at them in stupendous wonder? Can’t young people think of a better way to rebel than smoking?

Were the girls participating in a social experiment to see what kind of reaction they would get to smoking in a public place? Where were the hidden television camera filming the response? Did they catch my reaction? Will a reporter come banging on my door demanding to know why I did not do something about the girls smoking? Is my chai latte gone already?

All good questions. And I do not know any of the answers except the principal's number is in the phone book and my chai latte which was warm and contained one third froth had indeed been quaffed. I do not know why it is so hard to get a hot chai latte that takes longer than two minutes to drink.