population density and humble pie
Austria may not have a huge population, but you're never not around people. And lately, I keep running into situations that remind me that living with people means that you don't get to do things your way all the time. You can't live like you're alone.
For one thing, in Austria, swimming is a contact sport. Well, let me rephrase that - swimming tries very hard NOT to be a contact sport. I haven't decided yet if it's one big game of chicken, or a weird version of sharks & minnows, but it's definitely different from how we do it in the states. In the US, pools have lanes. People share these lanes, and each person swims back and forth at his or her own pace. Not so here! Here, swimming is a free-for-all where 20 people do breast stroke in a 3-4 lane space, and it's inevitable that you will occasionally take a kick to the head, or get slapped across the ankle.
But of course, being from the states, I'd rather swim freestyle. You quickly learn to bob your head up every few seconds to check and make sure no one's swimming straight at you. "Crap! Does (s)he see me?" you wonder, "(S)he's almost on top of me! How fast can I swerve?" Or alternately "Woah! That was close, I didn't even notice that person... good job they saw me coming." I've had to change how I approach swimming, because at home, it's a time of prayer and meditation for me. I can move my body and let my mind wander into God's presence. Here, the same behavior will ensure I crash once or twice a length and eventually get yelled at by the pool supervisor.
And that's another thing. People here will never hesitate to let you know when you're breaking the rules. Just now, sitting in Starbucks, I had my feet propped up on one of the coffee tables, and a lady came up to me. "Do you speak German?" she asked, cell phone in the hand she had propped on her hip. I looked up, confused. Her black leather boots matched her hair, and the lack of a green apron made it clear that, despite the stern expression on her face, she was not an employee. "Yes?" I said, perplexed. She proceeded to tell me, in clipped tones, that she didn't think it was fitting for me to put my feet on the table, and that she was thoroughly disgusted by it when she thought of the fact that she eats off of such tables. I was dumbstruck. I've been told not to prop my feet on chairs when wearing shoes, but in Starbucks, of all places, a haven of American culture, I should be allowed to prop my un-shod feet on a coffee table. Furthermore, this lady was taking it upon herself to yell at me as if she were my mother and I had propped my feet on the kitchen table. But there you have it. A patently Austrian moment. Her message delivered, she stomped off to the bathroom self-righteously, leaving me to my anger and the laughing eyes and placating smile of the pretty blonde sitting next to me.
But it isn't just swimming pools and coffee shops where I encounter this message that I need to be more conscious of the fact that living with others means self-denial. It stalks me at home and finds me in my bed, too. Well, not quite in my bed. But certainly at home. My recent experiences with Maria, my landlady, leave me in little doubt that not only am I headstrong when it comes to personal habits, I also have a habit of avoiding people with whom I experience conflict - and that that does NOT lead to happy roommate relationships.
In all honesty, it makes me want to rebel. I want people to stop sticking their noses in where they don't belong and stop trying to control/change my behavior. It makes me feel like I'm a nonentity until I break the rules, and then I'm a bad entity that has to be put back in place.
In my musings I wonder, if I let myself be broken in, like a horse, if I would then be valued, like a faithful charger or trusty carthorse. But then I realize that doesn't make any sense, really, because who would value me? Society? It is notorious for valuing only those with money or prestige, and following the rules guarantees neither. Friends? Surely friends value a person for more than their ability (or lack thereof) to deny themselves?
But I'm not just learning to follow rules. These encounters are making me eat slice after slice of humble pie, and, if nothing else, learning to be humble will make me more Christlike. I just hope that's really how this all works out. The Spiritual Disciplines Handbook by Adele Ahlberg Calhoun defines humility as follows:
To become like Jesus in his willingness to choose the hidden way of love rather than the way of power.
My struggle currently is figuring out what/where the hidden way of love is. Because, you see, humility isn't just NOT choosing the way of power. In choosing not to walk the way of power, you have to walk another path... and the way of hidden love isn't the only possible option. At the very least, there's also the way of bitterness, the way of resignation (these two run parallel), and the way of avoidance. I've walked them all recently, and have had to turn and walk back to the intersection every time. What is the way of hidden love? Where is it?