Sunday, August 31, 2008

Pride Revisited


It’s amazing to think what COULD be were we not saddled with all these human pitfalls and maladies. If we didn’t suffer from the things that keep us grounded when we could be soaring far and away.

One pitfall is pride. But not just any pride, folks, Male Pride (sometimes mistaken for male ego, which is something different, believe it or not). Pride exists equally in men and women, sure. But it IS different in men. I wouldn’t admit or allow this thought for quite some time until I saw it in myself. Ouch…damn it.

Yes, male pride and the wonders it performs. I’m sure all you boys will deny it, even though you know exactly what in the hell I’m talking about. Deny it you want, mates. Deny it till your lips and tongue die of exhaustion because…

…this denial is part of the pride itself.

I’m thinking of my father now. He died earlier this year and, to be honest, he hasn’t become any more of a saint since his passing. While alive, he was a disagreeable person, to put it lightly. He also had some very noble traits which were dimmed quite a bit by the other, darker aspects of his nature. It’s part of what killed him.

As I now understand it, it’s pride that allowed most of his negative traits to bloom. The main way his pride showed itself was in the denial of truths and refusal to look (not see, LOOK) at something if it threatened to debunk his beliefs.
If it didn’t agree with him, it would be shut out, shut down, belittled or whatever else it took to make it what he wanted.

In myself, I’ve seen pride make me blind to my own faults and especially MISTAKES. It’s that evil, little pinch of pride that could make me say, “I know” when I didn’t. It’s pride that has kept me stunted in growth for so long. It’s a pisser because had it not existed, I would be a wiser man today. I’m thinking now of the educations I could have received and benefited from had pride not intervened. Denying is hiding. Tearing down something/someone for no good reason is hiding.

I was talking recently to someone I hadn’t heard from in a while. After the first conversation, I began to recall a familiar feeling. It’s the feeling of being stung by someone else’s pride. It leaves you a bit flat and insulted. My father was a master of this, and this old friend reminded me of why I can’t stand it.

They reminded me that people filled with pride can’t really give compliments. They can’t offer praise or acknowledgement without pushing at least a small thorn in your side. They can’t ask for help, because that would be admitting that they don’t know everything. They AREN’T all things to all people. Their ideas AREN’T the best of the lot. They DO require help.

“No, mate, I can't lift this car over my head all by myself.”

Take, for example, this fictional conversation at the corner bar:

Mark: I’m starting a construction business.
Pete: Oh yeah? That’s great. I had a construction business for 10 years. If you need any help or advice on anything let me know.
Mark: I can handle it.
Pete: I know that. I’m only saying that if my promotions firm can do anything to help get you-.
Mark: I can do all that myself.
Pete: Sure, mate. I just thought that it might…
Mark: I know what you thought. I can do it, OK?
Pete: Jesus Christ, all right. I know things are tough right now, so I thought I’d offer what I can. What’s your fucking problem?
Mark: You don’t know what tough is, Pete. I don’t need you trying to fix my life for me, OK. You gonna come over and play father to my kids too?
Pete: This is fucking brilliant. What am I, non-existent over here? I’m living the high-life, is that it? My problems don’t match up to yours? I was just trying to help you out.
Mark: Your help doesn’t mean fuck all to me. You think your Christ glowing in the dark? I’m not capable without your help?
Pete: Fuck me, man.

The examples could go on forever. I'm sure you can recall your own. I’m not offering any solutions, you understand. I don’t have any to offer you. What I can say is that fear and pride can now look like the same thing to me. The only way I’ve found to deal with this type of pride is to cut it off, even in myself.

When I notice people not growing because they’re still trying to hump some high school dream of life, it’s aggravating. Pride allows no room for growth or education.

My father didn’t grow. All he did was to re-enforce his beliefs by dealing only with those who thought as he did. He only referenced things that thought as he did. He had no willingness to listen, look at or attempt to understand anything that frightened him (meaning anything unfamiliar to him). Thus, he remained a boy all his life. 50-something year old boys are not simply annoying, they’re sad. Calling them ‘father’ is impossible.

Another, more extreme example:

Think of two boys drawing together, Greg and Franz. Greg holds up his finished picture to Franz and asks, “What do you think?”. Franz looks up and says, “It fucking sucks!”. Franz then grabs Greg’s drawing and tears it up. He then tears his drawing up and destroys the table they were using. Franz then calls Greg an “asshole” and leaves.

On the way home, Greg kicks a cat and steps on as many ants as he can. When he arrives home, he tells his mother to piss off and the rest of his family to leave him alone. He sits at his desk in his room and starts to…draw. After a few drawings, he tears them up and destroys his room. Throwing himself onto his bed with exhaustion, he cries, his pride wounded.

An exaggerated example? Yes, but it happens every day on different scales. That little pinch of pride can flare into fireballs that burn the hell out of anybody near.

Some of you may say that this isn’t restricted to men. Absolutely true. I agree with this and say “No, this behavior isn’t exclusive to men”. However, I do find it to be more PROMINENT in men. And the larger the group of people, the better chance that it will surface.

Why? I don’t know. I don’t like it. Not in myself and not in others. It’s difficult to relate and simply be when you’re always being looked over and sized up as a threat because of somebody else’s pride (fears).

Sometimes I hate these newfound understandings and thoughts. They reveal life to be much more complicated than I was ever led to believe. They destroyed the facades of all my childhood heroes.

And hangin’ with the boys ain’t what it used to be.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Good stuff your writing there. I pretty much threw out all my posts until I figure out what I want to say.

I need to recommend a book: "Smoking in Bed. Conversations with Bruce Robinson". It's a great read. An autobiography told in an interview style. Robinson is writer/director (Killing Fields screenplay, Withnail and I, Jennifer 8, etc).