September 17
When the noble man sees anger approaching, he considers what will follow from it. The lesser man lets himself go; the noble man pauses — and in this the one is parted from the other.
Analects (Lunyu) (freely rendered)
Listening mode
When the noble man sees anger approaching, he considers what will follow from it. The lesser man lets himself go; the noble man pauses — and in this the one is parted from the other.
Anger keeps its own time. It knows only the present moment and treats it as if it were the only one in which anything can still be said. What comes after – the next meeting, the tone on Monday – seems unreal to it.
To pause, then, means first of all to bring that time back. The sentence on the tip of your tongue might be just as justified tomorrow. Only then you say it knowing that the day after you will be dealing with this person again.
It gets difficult when the pause becomes a habit. Then each time you weigh so thoroughly what might follow that in the end nothing follows at all. The anger doesn’t disappear, it only grows quieter and older. Sometimes it surfaces months later in a remark that has hardly anything to do with its cause any more, and which for that reason no one understands, not even you entirely.
In the moment, the two look the same: you say nothing. Whether you gave the anger time or merely put it away becomes clear only when a calmer occasion comes.
