2018-09-05 Cincinnati
Jacuzzi Agonistes
A common exercise in Values Clarification workshops is to write as many sentences as come naturally, all beginning with, “I want…”[1]
“I want a hot tub.”
I have wanted a hot tub much of the time we have lived at Interwood, where we’ve lived the past five years. It’s not that I long for a relaxing jacuzzi every night, or crave stripping down and floating after every long day at work, or even imagine that’s where I’d like to reconnect with Lawson after every day spent apart.
I just want to partake of the conversations, singing, and otherwise connecting that a jacuzzi uniquely enables.
So what’s the problem?
The problem is I feel guilty wanting a jacuzzi. I fear feeling guilty every time I pass the jacuzzi, attacked by an automatic and relentless thought, “I am a bad person,” complete with an imaginary slap at the back of my own hand.
How can I justify spending hundreds thousands of dollars on pleasure? There are mothers who can’t feed their children tonight. There are children who will die of starvation tonight. Not just suffer. Not just cry. Not just wail. But actually die.
[1] Are you as dumbstruck as I that human beings on planet Earth would actually need permission and somehow improve by writing “I want…” sentences?
VicWulsin 