I’ve been administering something called the ‘ambulance test’ on myself.
The conditions are simple – just what is your first thought when an ambulance requires your way during rush hour? Do you immediately think it queer that an ambulance always seems to be requiring your way during bumper-to-bumper rush hour or do you hurriedly shuffle your vehicle aside as to not contribute to any delays that would endanger the life of someone on it?
I used to frequently think the former. That it’s fishy that every time I am stuck listlessly in traffic, inching towards my intended destination, that an ambulance would come barreling along, demanding way, and moving up the traffic queue. It just reeked of, ‘ambulance driver doesn’t want to sit in traffic so turns sirens on to skip it’. Mainly because it happens so frequently that it can no longer be just a coincidence. I used to not consider the latter.
I have been considering the condition of my heart and mind recently. Largely because I am starting to realise that it’s rather impossible to try and be a semblance of a person trying to do good if I am allowing bad thoughts to run wildly in my head. I used to think I could be like Luke, balance the light and darkness and offer objective glimpses to either outcomes. But the cliche holds true, the heart is like a factory, if we carelessly feed it gunk, it would end up producing garbage.
Or a Ben Solo.
The modern adage is ‘we should be who we are’. But I loathe large portions of the person I am. Cause the person I am can sometimes be a vermin that thinks only selfishly about himself and drops all good intentions when it no longer suits his mood or emotional state. What then? Do I continue to allow it to thrive based solely on that adage. Or do I teach it to try to be better?
These days I only occasionally think the former. The other occasions, I rein them in by reminding myself that while there will be more than a few occasions where I am just making way so that the ambulance driver can get to where he wants to get to, sit down and have a smoke over a cup of milk tea, there will be situations where it’s someone’s father or daughter, in utter desperation to get to the hospital, so that a lifetime of memories and experiences, can be preserved. In those moments, I find myself feeling less cynical about giving way.
More importantly, it trains my mind to not just shuffle along hurriedly to the nearest cynical station. To at least stop for a moment and consider the possibility of a different outcome. The mind is a deceitful thing indeed. Leave it alone long enough and it starts laying roots, building a kingdom and ruling with an iron fist. Subjecting it completely is probably also impossible. The best we can hope for is to train it to not be so evil all the time.
For now, I will take that as victory.