Mrs. P ran across a fascinating story the other day. It appeared in a post at the Huffington Post from last December by Arthur Rosenfeld, a martial arts instructor, novelist, and writer on Eastern philosophy. (For the original version, go here.)

Rosenfeld describes how he pulled into a Starbucks drive-through line and gave his order. Because of the cars in front of him, he was unable to move his car completely forward of the station where orders are spoken. Unaware of, or not caring about, this inability, the driver in the car behind him, frustrated at his own inability to reach the speaking station, honked angrily—and continuously. 

Rosenfeld grew more and more upset at the driver behind him, feeling his own anger rise. He wanted to go punch the guy out. Then, he realized that this reaction was absurd. He needed to respond to this guy in a different way. 

When he finally pulled forward to the window where he was to pay, he told the barista that he would pay for the order of the car behind him. She asked if he was serious, and he insisted. She checked her screen and found out that the order for the car behind was breakfast for five—quite pricey, as you can imagine. “You’re sure?” she asked. “Do it,” Rosenfeld said. He collected his own coffee and drove off, never looking back. 

Hours later, he returned home to find his answering machine full of messages. One was from the manager of the Starbucks; another was from an NBC News team. It seems that the driver he had treated had done the same for the driver behind him, who had also paid for the order of the next driver, who had done the same, and on and on and on for hours. 

Rosenfeld’s point is not that he did a good deed and that it spread like the ripples across the surface of a lake. (Though that’s not a bad lesson.) His point is that he had performed what he calls a “random act of consciousness,” an action aimed at maintaining his own balance—his wuji—when he was on the verge of losing that balance and that that had a good effect. He calls this a “random act of consciousness” because he made the conscious effort to regain control of himself and act from that balance, not the imbalance that he had felt when his anger rose. 

Rosenfeld concludes with these paragraphs: 

“In a sense, you can think of this as self-centered, but in a good way. Keeping your cool, maintaining your wuji is just like putting your own oxygen mask on in a damaged airplane before helping those around you. If you pass out, you can't help anyone. If you lose your temper, you are of no good to the world. Cool, calm and collected you are ready and willing to participate in the world.

Violent crimes and burglaries are up this holiday season. The financial crisis is creating anxiety, depression, desperation and anger. Spread the word about wuji. Do your best to control your own feelings before acting rashly. Think twice before doing or saying something you'll regret. Random acts of consciousness are perhaps even more contagious than random acts of kindness. Raise your level of view, dig deep for perspective, and help make this a more peaceful holiday season for everyone.” 

While some (perhaps) of the desperation and fear abundant at the end of last year, when Rosenfeld wrote this piece, might have dissipated, we are nevertheless living in a time of turmoil, controversy, and growing animosity. I hope we all keep our wuji.  

Words and pictures © 2009 AtHome Pilgrim.

All Rights Reserved.