I have always been detached, and detached on a lot of different levels. Whether it’s because of being a left-hander or a little emotionally under-tuned, it, nonetheless, brings a sharpness and clarity to the logic employed in argument, and given that deeper understanding, introduces a necessarily unhealthy level of cynicism into the process of debate. Argument, is after all, only debate, perhaps attuned at a slightly more excitable level. It never really settles anything, but it does waste time and it does waste energy. The plus side though, is that it also makes marvellous recreational entertainment.
Being involved in any argument is always only ever a fool’s game. So don’t start one and don’t engage with one. Arguing is frankly a serious waste of life and needs to be recognised as such. Unfortunately, such recognition does require a certain capacity to engage brain.
However, watching argument, allowing yourself to be entertained by it, perhaps even revelling in the ridiculousness of the whole display, well that is an entirely different ball game. As Marcus Aurelius put it, “Nothing has such power to broaden the mind as the ability to investigate systematically and truly all that comes under thy observation in life.” The picture above shows a statue of the man. He was a clever chap so mark his words!
And note. Observation is key.
If you fail to take note, to observe, then life, and the fact of it’s being there with you, in the now, is completely missed. It is a simple fact. Think Sherlock. Once all the clutter is removed, whatever is left has to reveal the truth in things. If you make a point of seeing what is really there, you are much sooner capable of channelling out the noise. If you can do that in the now, you are closer to seeing the reality of your situation.
The logic in this process is pretty cut and dried, but it also adds to the experience, and where arguments are involved, then the real attraction has to be the emotional involvement. Arguments, fuelled by emotion, are undoubtedly the best ones for entertainment value. Though, generally, it is the emotion that undermines all the right and wrongs and leads most argument to completely unravel.
The rights or the wrongs, the leanings this way or that, rapidly cease to have relevance when emotion is introduced. Emotion is never a winning argument.
So if you ever want to stop an argument, my advice, simply put, is, don’t.
Allow events to unfold and, without prejudice, take a considered view of what you observe, and learn from it. Use the Aurelius approach and broaden your mind. Improve yourself.
Learnings like this, come from all manner of things and the following little story is, perhaps, a good example.
Not so very long ago, following some requests to the Town Hall to do something about the eucalyptus trees that skirt the main route into the valley, we had a gang of local arboreal specialists come in, to clear branches and take out some of the trunks.
There was money in it for the contractors that were doing the work, as the trunks, that were theirs to take away, would command quite a price. That price covered their costs, so they made no charge to the Town Hall, and by such an arrangement, everyone was a winner.
The work went ahead, but as it was along the only route through the valley, it did mean that a few vehicles had to be redirected, or temporarily delayed as the trees started to come down.
This did not sit well with some of our community.
Our house is on the road where the works were scheduled, and we were enjoying the view, from our terrace, of the workmen taking down the trees. The eucalyptus trees were huge and the cutting meant that they needed to fall in exactly the right direction. The road was temporarily closed, and a barrier erected to keep vehicles clear of the trees, as they fell.
A number of cars had stopped at the barrier as the Spanish obreros were carrying on with their work.
But for some, or should we say, for one, of the vehicle occupants, this was an entirely unacceptable, unscheduled and unwarranted delay to their extremely busy schedule, which was, under no circumstances, to be so dreadfully interfered with, and how very dare they and, and, I’m sorry, but, but, but words, strong words will simply have to be had.
That was when it all kicked off.
A car door swung open and a small red-faced elderly chap, stepped out and began gesticulating wildly at the workmen. In fluent, but course, and slightly slurred Spanish he began to berate the workers with his complaints. He was noticed.
One of the obreros had been watching with wry amusement, probably thinking this was another bloody immigrant out to make a damn fool of himself, so let’s sit back and just enjoy it, but as the rant evolved, it took a personal turn, unnecessary and untrue generalisations were made, and the whole tone slewed to one of simple abuse. This emotional fuel to the flame, directed at someone, just trying to do his job, was not, in any way, helpful.
We’re in Spain, for God’s sake!
The Spanish are the ultimate experts when it comes to red rags and bulls. They may even have invented the whole idea. The noisesome, flailing gent became an immediate, and extremely in your face red rag. Our wry obrero, smarting slightly from the unexpected tirade, puffed his chest, snorted and adopted the full bull mentality. He was decidedly unhappy.
Words were then exchanged. Heatedly. The red rag flailed and the bull snorted and stomped and our elderly gent was quickly escorted back to his car, with a firm grip around the arm, apparently to ensure he didn’t stumble.
The bull, now fully in control, spat some commands to the rest of the gang, who suddenly burst into life, removing the sections of treetrunk from the road, to clear the way for this exceedingly important person.
Inside the car, the elderly chap looked to be in self-congratulatory mode, quietly satisfied that his exhortations and biting sarcasm had proven fruitful.
In what seemed like no time at all, the road was cleared, the car was waved on, the bull smiling, the red rag giving a cheery wave as he passed and everything looked set to return to some semblance of normality.
But the bull is a particularly wily beast and with this particular bull, that smile, that gleaming white smile, was set ready and riven with the most delicious of deceits.
As the car moved on, one of the gang stepped out and stopped the remaining cars from following. They were to be redirected. Another tree was about to fall. A chainsaw buzzed into life and within just a few seconds, another great eucalyptus crashed down across the road.
Just beyond the fallen tree, there was a red rag in an old car, gradually waking up to a little bit of a situation.
In front of him, there was a tree, across the road. No-one had mentioned another tree.
And behind him, there was a new tree across the road. He’d seen it fall.
He was trapped. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. Trapped.
And just behind that tree, he could also hear the laughter ringing out, from the obreros, with jokes being made, a couple of short cheers and a chunk of manly backslapping.
Today, their work, often mundane, and always tiring, had been fun and entertaining and memorable. These were all very happy workers.
Maybe now would be exactly the right time for a little break, an opportunity for a cigarette perhaps, or something to eat, whilst between the trees, they could also take time, simply to enjoy the very wildlife.
It was a beautiful, impromptu little argument, served with a satisfying splash of Spanish flair, and for me, it just ticked all of the boxes.
Observed, it seemed to run like an old Benny Hill sketch. Would that one of the cars had somehow contained a number of stilettoed, bikini-clad babes that might somehow have found their way into the plot, but instead, it was just a deliberate funny man, straight man build, to a killer punchline. The trapped car pay-off was absolutely priceless.
As with so much else there were also learnings, most definitely, to be had.
We’re guests in this beautiful country and however you think about it, having a go at someone who is simply going about their work, is pretty poor. It’s an old quote but “manners makyth man” is about right. It costs nothing to show a little respect and consideration to people, and a polite approach will almost always pay dividends, particularly if you are a foreigner dealing with a local national. This isn’t something you’d expect to need to learn, but some of the immigrants here seem to lack that social capability. It’s all a bit sad really.
But always wanting to finish on a high point, I think our obreros had a damned fine day, one that would perhaps have been just a same old, same old, if some idiot foreigner hadn’t decided to get mouthy and set himself up for a lesson in good manners.
Just another reason to love the harmony and balance that this beautiful little valley of ours, so often provides. I do so love it here!
Cortijo Grande Musings 