I joined a gym yesterday; the gym has a sauna. Though I had not used one before yesterday, I am experimenting with sauna use in order to explore potential health benefits.
The sauna had a sign that said “no shoes allowed”. A few minutes after I walked in, another fellow walked in. He was fully clothed, including his shoes. The shoes were not knew; they were well worn, and slightly beat up.
I found myself profoundly bothered by this fellow wearing shoes in the sauna. Did he not see the sign? Did he not care? Did he not have the common sense and common courtesy to recognize that he was tracking dirt into a space where people often sit, undressed and vulnerable? Should I say something? How would he react if I said something? Why doesn’t someone do something about this? Aargh, why do I not have the courage and power to do something about this?
And then I realized: I was stuck in fear. I was afraid. The realization gave me a moment to disconnect the fear from reality, and start to evaluate the fear. I mean, one individual wearing shoes in a sauna one time is hardly an event worth being upset over. And yet, here I was, clearly upset.
It occurred to me that I like when people follow the rules. I often question rules, and generally want to understand them before following them. But, especially once I understand why the rules exist, I strongly prefer following the rules, and that others do the same.
I tell this story partly because I see the same tendency in you. You instinctively question rules. But you are also an ardent enforcer of rules, both in our family and with your peers. You, like me, clearly prefer living in a world with logical rules that people follow.
Why, I wonder? Perhaps it doesn’t matter why, and awareness is the only thing that matters. But that’s not very satisfying, so I’ll share what else occurred to me today, with the caveat that I anticipate I still have much to learn on this topic.
First off, rules help simplify decisions. Having rules prevents us from needing to reason every decision from first principles. Rules reduce our cognitive load enormously. So when we or others break the rules, we instinctively revisit the purpose behind the rules, and bear additional cognitive load.
Second, rules help us avoid chaos. A world without rules (either formal or informal) would be a free-for-all. No one would know what to expect from other people, making the world feel like a far scarier place. So when others break the rules, I interpret that environment as scarier than before.
Third, people following rules implies that they have bought into the system. Perhaps they, like you and I, sought to understand the rules first. Or perhaps they just trusted the people making the rules, and so trusted the rules by extension. But when people break the rules, it implies that they do not agree with the rules or do not trust the rule makers. Either way: a critical mass of rule breakers implies a breakdown of the social structure, even a structure as trivial as the local gym. Let me be clear: I don’t believe this one individual wearing shoes is signaling the imminent collapse of my local gym. What I am outlining is the implicit logic thread that caused me to overreact to what was a minor infraction, so that I can differentiate what is logical (excessive rule breaking is problematic for keeping society together) from what was emotional (that this one individual was somehow threatening the social order of my gym, or my world at large).
Ultimately, I decided not to confront the shoe-wearer. I don’t know if that was the right solution or not. My sense is that I didn’t confront him out of fear, which implies that I will want to practice developing the courage to confront transgressors (politely, of course) in the future.
And what did I owe the shoe-wearer? First off, probably some grace. Perhaps he just didn’t see the sign. Perhaps this was his first time in a sauna, and he was too nervous to remember to take his shoes off. If he knowingly broke the rules, he almost certainly did so out of fear. So it’s hugely important to remind myself that this individual deserves my empathy more than my judgement. Certainly, that’s how I would want to be treated if the roles were reversed.
Second, he probably deserved some respectful boundary-setting. If he just forgot, he probably deserved a gentle reminder. If he was just nervous, he probably deserved a gentle correction as a teachable moment, handled with understanding and grace. And if he knowingly broke the rules, he probably deserved an opportunity to face that reality, and the impact it has on those around him. In short, he deserved an opportunity to grow; by not confronting him, I arguably robbed him of that opportunity.
Of course, it’s possible that he both knowingly broke the rules and would have resisted the opportunity to learn and grow from a respectful correction. Perhaps. But he probably deserved the opportunity nonetheless, and I probably deserved the opportunity to practice offering a gentle correction without getting too attached to his reaction. In other words, even if he reacted poorly to a correction (one of the things I feared), it was probably still worth it to both of us for me to offer him that correction.
And of course, I deserve some grace too, for not confronting the shoe-wearer. I was too scared and self-absorbed to make the right decision for all involved. But that doesn’t make me weak, pathetic, or shameful. Just human. And one of the most joyful aspects of being human that I have discovered occurs when we embrace the opportunity to grow. Before we can embrace the opportunity to grow, however, we must become aware of it. So today I celebrate improving my awareness, if only a little.
I love you,
Dad
Letters to Leland 