Anger = Compassion? Rest versus Recreation?

Yesterday I went to my friend's house to dig in the garden as usual. It was fun. But when he discovered I have a doctor's appointment he sent me off early to get to her on time.

So I arrived in the city with an hour on my hands before I needed to be at the doctors. I walked into Borders and ordered a coffee and read the end of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman's novel "Good Omens". It was nice, but nihilistic and preaching moral relativism under the cover of cynicism. It was also funny and well written, however, and though I liked it it dissuaded me from reading any more Neil Gaiman. Having read some of Pratchett's books before I have found them charming light entertainment so it is not to be expected to have any more quality than that.

I also bought a large packet of chips which I ate through the night, and I was kind of in a floating state of mind for the evening for some reason. It was only the doctor who brought me down with a kindly bump to earth.

"Why didn't you confront the gardener for poisining your seedlings thismorning?"

"I couldn't think what to say," I said.

But she had a good point. I was pissed off with the gardener and had no intention of sharing that with him. In fact, I do not see the use of anger in any circumstance. It just seems problematic.

She pointed out though that anger is the fuel for compassion. And I couldn't but agree, although I didn't buy her "anger-turned-inwards-creates-depression" theory, which seems a bit too pat to me. But does it? Do we need to be furious in order to be kind?

I do not think so. I think reason and enthusiasm is sufficient. And I do not agree that extremes of any emotionalism are worthwhile long term.

In any case, I stayed up late the last few nights and regretted it. Trading off rest for a few hours of recreation seems a poor exchange, and that is precisely what I do when I stay up past midnight. Ideally one would combine rest with recreation!

The doctor took blood in an attempt to discern if there was any physical condition allowing my state of exhaustion much of the time. I doubt it.

Contemplating Hawkins' science of consciousness, I feel asleep in the waiting room of the surgery, only to be woken by a pale wisp of a girl entering. She stank of marijuana. She sat and stank, and I was grateful when the doctor immediately appeared.

My notes on the science of consciousness are at my other blog on blogger. At least I managed to get a rest at the waiting room in the midst of my busy day yesterday!