Burnishing the armour of their “Yes”

 

I need a quiet day and a very rare thing: equanimity, if ever I’m going to paint.

I also need a lovely, bright sunny day, and the light just right.

A day like today.

My intention was to finish my painting. My painting is a watercolour painting of grass with bluebells.

I’ve been painting it for about fifteen years. Each centimetre has taken about an hour to achieve.

The two small plates I used as palettes have been covered in paint that has been wet and dried for well over a decade. They are things of beauty in their own right with all their various shades of greens and browns and blacks.

Since everything was absolutely perfect I decided that I was going to finish the painting today.

I’d prepared everything the night before.

This morning I worked out a timetable: fifteen minutes painting followed by fifteen minute breaks to give my eyes a rest.

And so I began, feeling optimistic and utterly content.

All was going perfectly, until there was a rattle of the letter box.

Reluctantly, I put the paint brush down.

When I opened the door there were two women standing there. They had an air of unease; and I sensed instantly that they were long used to confrontation whenever people opened their doors to them.

“Do you believe in creation or evolution?” the woman nearest asks.

In her cleanliness and the neatness of her clothes there is a softness and warmth about her. She is dressed in her Sunday best as if for church, wearing light coloured fabrics which proclaim propriety, dignity and righteousness. She is a wholesome person. The sort of woman you’d expect to find by the Aga cooking birthday cakes and ministering words of wisdom to a crowd of eager children with upturned faces. A Disney woman on whom the sun would always shine and one for whom everything would always work out right for in the end. She smiles like a mother patiently waiting for an answer from a particularly difficult child.

I am dressed in black. And I’m now frowning. I am darkness personified. I am the devil incarnate made so simply by her presence on my doorstep.

I can feel annoyance rising, so I get my words in quick trying to be as polite as I can.

“Evolution is right. I don’t believe in god. And I think you are wrong to be going around knocking on doors and disturbing everyone.”

“Can I give you this?”

She proffers one of her magazines.

“No, thanks.”

She remains unruffled and smiles robotically; as does the chocolate coloured elderly lady behind her. I observe that they are no longer showing any signs of unease. They have found familiar ground. They are used to hearing the word “No.” It conveys upon them sainthood. For their prosthelytizing has achieved a “No” that has burnished the armour of their “Yes”.

As I close the door I see that they have peace and equanimity.

My peace and equanimity!

I return into the room and find that I’m now carrying unease, the unease I saw in them when I first opened the door; an unease which is now fermenting inside me into a seething annoyance.

They have shattered my peace.

I pick up the paintbrush…

….

… and then I put it down.

 

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