March 29
Never act while the storm rages within. The prudent man waits until the churned-up water has cleared — only then does he see the bottom.
The Pocket Oracle and Art of Prudence (freely rendered)
Listening mode
Never act while the storm rages within. The prudent man waits until the churned-up water has cleared — only then does he see the bottom.
A message you wrote in anger usually reads like a stranger's the next morning. The accusations seem overblown, some of the words embarrass you. You're glad you didn't send it.
Often, though, one sentence is left that you can't strike out so easily. It is put more sharply than you would put it today, and yet it names something that really did happen yesterday. Calm hasn't refuted it. It has only made it quieter.
This is where waiting becomes harder than it first seems. Composure is not simply the state in which you see clearly. It has interests of its own: it doesn't want to spoil the day, weigh on the next meeting, have to explain anything. What agitation exaggerates, it may be all too willing to play down.
So two versions of the same hurt lie before you. One sees too much, the other perhaps too little. You can try writing the sentence again, in your words of today. As you do, you notice whether it can still be said even when it is no longer urging you on.
