Have you ever heard a newscast that was all about goodness and kindness? – I'm almost certain not. If there was one, it would be so orderly, monotonous, yawning, and numbing that it wouldn't exist for you.
It is no wonder, then, that every radio broadcaster, program host, article writer, or even speaker in front of an audience chooses to focus on what is not good, what needs correction, what is irritating, annoying, and infuriating to the point of sometimes causing an outburst of anger, insults, and sighs while broadcasting, lecturing, or presenting a program.
I thought about this on the infamous Wednesday. The fourth day they promised us snow in Jerusalem and it didn't happen.
Want more news, videos and stories? Join the Haredim 10 WhatsApp channel >>
Residents of the city of Lima sat by the windows of their homes and waited for the dawn to break.
It was a completely free day, a day of nothing to do. A day without work, a day without school, a day of vacation in the full sense of the word. Even those who did go to work were unable to concentrate, because their gaze was directed to the window the whole time and their minds were occupied with the question: When will the forecasters' justice be revealed?
I'll share with you a personal matter: I recorded my family radio show the day before. On Tuesday. I trusted the forecasters and their unequivocal words and believed with all my heart that the snow would come.
I spoke on my show about the snowy peaks that loom before my eyes through the window, I was awed as one is only awed when one truly sees these white and breathtaking mountains, I explained to the listeners that only we, here in Jerusalem (and the north), can understand what real snow is and what is fake, and so I expanded on my words about the snow – which at the time of recording the show had not yet arrived – but I was sure that it would certainly appear at the appointed time. (In any case, the forecasters know what they say...).
And thank you, life-saving flakes.
When my plan was supposed to start on Wednesday afternoon, I found myself sitting in front of the window in my house, in the exact same place where I had signed a contract from 11:00 a.m., the promised time, praying that the promised snow would appear, if only because of the things I had said, and in fact, as of those moments, there was no dawn (fortunately, a few life-saving flakes flew by at exactly the same time and spared me more heartache).
It's no wonder that after such a day full of expectations (each person has their own reasons for their expectations) and full of disappointments on the other side, we, the people of Jerusalem, were certain that we deserved at least 10 centimeters of snow the next day. We woke up Thursday morning at dawn, bleary-eyed from a night in which we woke up every half hour to find out if it was true, and found ourselves sore, irritated, and miserable in front of a thin pile of whiteness, which we cleared from the house with a push of a shoe on our way to work and to classes that had not been canceled.
I couldn't hear this morning's news. I had to catch up on everything I didn't do on Wednesday, the day I spent hours in front of the window, waiting for the promise of snow to come true. But even without hearing it, I'm sure that the news on every channel opened with a complaint against whoever seemed possible: the forecasters, the police, the municipality, the rescue service, the drivers of the plows, the salt sacks and who knows who else: "You promised snow and you didn't deliver!"'
Everyone is to blame except me.
When we are angry and frustrated, we take out our anger on those around us.
- It's my wife's fault that I left the house late.
- The child is to blame for the drinking glass falling from his hand and shattering into pieces.
- My friend is guilty of going to this doctor.
- It's my mother's fault for raising me like this.
And the forecasters are guilty of not keeping what they promised!!!
We complain all our lives and it doesn't help. We complain about the bus that doesn't come, about the Knesset member who didn't have an impact, about the lecturer who didn't care, about the parents who didn't educate, about the institution that didn't accept.
Complaining and unable to rise.
We tend to complain that the world is wrong. That everything is not good. Then we are surprised that everything really is so bad. Maybe we should ask ourselves how we can make it better for ourselves?
Maybe the technique should be different. Maybe the way of looking at things should be different, and that's what I teach all the time in my lectures on preserving relationships.
Half a glass
Instead of complaining about what we don't do, let's be thankful for what we do.
For the buses that arrive on time every day, for the minister who managed to bring the good news, for the parent who managed to educate, for our spouse who tried so hard.
I can't guarantee you'll wake up from such a monotonous, boring, draining, yawning, and numbing newscast.
But I can assure you that a news release like this will make you feel much calmer.
I can't guarantee you that the snow will come back and you'll wake up tomorrow morning to discover that the Alps have wandered into your area, but I can promise you faithfully that then you'll be able to enjoy even two centimeters of snow adorning the sidewalk at the entrance to your house and not tread on it disdainfully on your way to seek out the victim of your wrath.
