Don’t forget that it’s always OK to say no
A local column by Peg Elliott Mayo
I have zero problem saying “no” to cashews or the flesh of something I’ve named, like Peter Pinkears, the bunny of my childhood.
It would take the Third Marine Battalion, using block and tackle, to get me on a ski slope. I’ve never caught on to the appeal of recreational vomiting. I will not help you move.
There is no way I will ever again wear white stretch pants, having once backed up to a full-length mirror while looking over my shoulder. I understand romantic liaisons with limber-tongued men met in bars is dumber than a box of political posters.
Do I want to be on the Tedious Committee to develop more complex ways to make life difficult for Whatever Congregation? No.
For three-quarters of a century, saying “no” felt dangerously like closing the door to the activities that defined me.
It is. It is also the key to survival in this Age of Over Stimulation, thereby opening to pleasurable, even peaceful, choices.
Many of my cohorts have not caught on.
There are several human physical limitations that otherwise intelligent folks may fail to grasp. Time is not flexible: we each get the same 24 hours a day. We know not the hour of our death.
A great innovation awaits an engineer who will design a day stretcher. To be of any use, it must incorporate a commitment filter preventing the entry of inhumane obligations.
Fact: It is impossible to be physically in two places at the same time.
We live in our bodies. Bodies are subject to whatever decision the mind makes. They react with increasing resentment at being forced to do more than is kindly. Bodies require rest, exercise, nourishment and pleasure or there will be escalating rebellion in the ranks.
Noxious multiple tasking has us viewing television at our keyboard while counseling a kid about schoolwork and watching the clock to get to an appointment.
Many drive in traffic talking on a cell phone and gobbling a greaseburger.
Something is wrong. We’ve forgotten the power of “no.”
Many Faithful Readers are industrial-strength contributors to life on Earth. They staff real and metaphorical soup kitchens for those down on their luck. They make sacrifices to be useful. They attend every fundraiser and contribute skills to make them happen. They agree they are their sibling’s keeper. All this is worthy work.
They do the research that provides a foundation for planetary survival. They endure ghastly meetings, fly in filthy airplanes and eat the unspeakable while on the run.
They check out politicos’ histories, contributors and derelictions, then make sure we, the lazy, are informed.
We’re talking about the life-supportive spine of the society. Most do poorly at supporting, extending and enjoying their own lives. Moderation is a stranger.
One friend actually drove a van full of sixth-graders to the coast for an outing eight days after her emergency appendectomy.
She had forgotten that “no” is the twin of “yes.”
Provider personalities should be preserved so their contributions can continue over decades. They are treasures.
Cultivating personal creativity, reflection, play and interests is to respect reality.
Even the strongest, most fruitful tree needs water, light and good soil.
This is not selfishness, but survival. Doing unto yourself as you have done unto others, is being a good example.
By saying “no” to time-absorptive busyness and fluttering about self-importunately, the menu of “have tos” becomes “Yes, I get to.”
There is time to learn and grow.
Provider personalities, to be renewed, must tend themselves with same fervor they typically give. Otherwise they receive nice obituary notices far too young and before they’ve realized their potential.
“No” invites “yes”: a wholesome pairing.
Peg Elliott Mayo writes from the Coast Range. She invites comment at uncommonideas@rivervoices.com and readers to her blog: www.peak.org/~pegmayo/
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