Thinking and feeling II

What do you think about it? and What do you feel about it? are different questions, eliciting different responses. Each is half the question, neither sufficient by itself. After, I wished she had asked, “What do you think about the job interview?” as I would not have sounded so silly, self-centred and irrelevant.

Ah. I still despise my feelings. I find them unconstructive. They get in the way.

That dispute. It is a pecking order thing. I altered the way a question was to be put to Area Meeting. I altered the expression of the question, not the issue to be considered. My motive was to facilitate discernment, which I felt would be disrupted by the poor formulation of the questions. K thought I was changing the issue, and told me I should not. She asserted that the original question had been put by a particular authority. When I showed this was in error, she approached J to seek reconciliation of our dispute.

The facts matter. Was the original question badly expressed? Did my rephrasing cover the same issue? That can be assessed. Then there is the feeling: when I act for the good of the group, I resent being accused of favouring my personal preferences. I resent being told what to do, without justification.

Now I assert, I am standing my ground for the good of the group. If the whole group sets our agenda, and debates it, our time is wasted. No-one else should criticise my agenda-setting without good reason, because the only efficient way to deal with agenda-setting is to delegate it to one person, who gets it mostly right. So my agenda-setting should be tolerated unless it is particularly bad. This is arguable, but may be rationalisation. I know what I want, and construct arguments that it is right. The argument emboldens me to keep contesting the matter.

Here thinking and feeling intertwine. The question is, “How do I respond?”

Earlier, I thought, give up. Then it nagged at me. I could not give up. I analysed the matter and found a way to assert myself. So much of this is unconscious. It just seems to happen.

I cycled past Boughton House, thinking, I have about another hour to go. The late afternoon sun is beautiful. The inclines can be a bit of a bind. I saw a tiny deer, only the height of a golden retriever, staring out from the woods. Exercise is good. Now, I am committed. I encourage and chivvy myself along. There are different voices in me, seeming more rational or emotive, and their relative power varies in different situations.