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| More winter colours: A largely forgotten camellia draws attention to itself. |
All of a sudden a car cut into the bicycle lane straight in front of me and almost knocked me off the road. I braked hard and turned suddenly, narrowly avoiding a collision with a dangerously positioned traffic island. My reactionary fear quickly turned to anger as I looked up to see the offending motorist unrepentantly continuing to weave through traffic and use the bicycle lane as his personal road extension.
This kind of event is not uncommon in Paris, and I usually react by catching up to the offending motorist and attempting to make them understand the inequality of the situation: cacooned in a metal shell at no risk to themselves, they have blatantly threatened my safety and possibly my life. Of course the motorist is rarely in a mood to appreciate this criticism and the exchanges often result in miscomprehension and aggressive shouting - hardly an agreeable result for either party or the public that bear witness.
In this particular case the circumstances were grave - at the speed I was riding, I shudder to imagine the result of a potential collision with the car that changed lanes or the traffic island I dodged in order to avoid it. As was usual, after the immediate danger had passed, the left over adrenaline in my system quickly fuelled a venomously aggressive impulse. I took a deep breath, fully preparing to unleash my anger in a vicious tirade on the oblivious offender.
And then I stopped.
I remembered that today was different: it was Ramadan. I had not had a drink in over 10 hours, I was exhausted, I still had one more client to see, and I still had to ride home after that. Sure, I could try to teach that inconsiderate motorist a lesson, but what would I gain from it? Every breath spent shouting at him would be another breath closer to dehydration for me. Once again, I just couldn't afford it.
Moreover I realised that beyond this physical cost of shouting and gesturing, I couldn't even afford to think about being angry at this guy. All my thoughts about the injustice of the situation, about the inequality, about the unnecessary life-risking behaviour - all this thinking was taking up valuable real-estate in my brain. I needed that precious real-estate for thinking about more important things like which route would be the best compromise between speed and exertion, which gear I should should pedal in to avoid raising my heart-rate and how best to negotiate the upcoming intersection swiftly and safely. The bad deed was done, and my shouting about it was not going to undo it. I was faced with the choice of nurturing these angry thoughts which promised no benefit to my immediate situation, or letting them pass and getting on with the job at hand. It was as if for the first time in my life, I could literally measure the cost of my negative emotions, and once I decided to let all these aggressive and angry thoughts go, it was as if a load was lifted.
With a newfound calm in both my physical and now mental comportment, I doggedly pedalled on to complete the final job of the day. Afterward I cycled home steadily and calmly feeling somewhat triumphant that I hadn't cracked ("If Hebbat can do it..."). As I turned my front-door key in its lock I shook my head, marvelling at all the realisations I had encountered on this otherwise normal work-day. Unsuspecting as I pushed the door open, I was about to find out that my first day of Ramadan was not over quite yet...
