Rubbed the Wrong Way (Revisited)

Scott Bradley
Original post date: May 12, 2011

As every cat lover knows, they prefer to be petted with the fur, not against it. Rub them the wrong way, and they won't hang around. We are like cats.

Yet I'm beginning to appreciate more and more those ideas which rub me the wrong way. Those ideas that go against my ingrained habits of thought. The idea that there is no Truth for me to know. The idea that nothing is better than anything else, that my preferences separate me from the world. The idea that ultimately there is no right and wrong. The idea that the Universe is utterly indifferent to my precious me. The idea that I needn't obey the rules of grammar, though I will get green-lined by Microsoft Word.

I have yet to say here what I wish to say. Maybe because I have just awoken in the middle of the night and can't quite feel what it is I mean to say. For I am speaking of a feeling, a feeling of being pushed and challenged toward a radically different way of experiencing life. It's a feeling of having to give up something I love very much: me. Or, at least, a certain way of being me.

I have spoken of ideas, but these ideas are about something other than ideas. They describe the way we think, not what we think. I find myself among a group of strangers. I care what they think of me. I form judgments about them. I feel their otherness. My selfness. My heart does not unite with them. I have erected a wall between us. All these experiences are natural to me. Yet upon reflection, I think of a different way of being among these people, a way that rubs me the wrong way, yet somehow feels good.

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