andi oakes

The last day of our trip to the south of England and it's time to bed down for the night in a nice little hotel just south of Carlisle, north England, ready for the hop towards the ferry in the morning.  So, I'm sitting in our hotel room winding down after 10 hours of driving the motorways of England; and believe me, as anyone who has ever had to do that will tell you, it takes time to relax after that.

I have to say, that our journey down through England to Cornwall over a week ago was considerably worse than the journey back north today.  Partly because the traffic was definitely more intense on the first run, but also because I decided to do something different: I made a conscious choice not to get drawn into a “battling” mind set.  

On the journey down, I have to admit that there were moments of considerable anxiety and frustration as I allowed myself to react to the other drivers around me.  Motorway driving is essentially loosely organised madness at break neck speed, and an environment that lends itself to bringing out the worst in people; but it is also, I think, a good metaphor for life.

On the motorway, everybody has their eye on the prize, the final destination that they are heading towards.  Some are intent on getting there as fast as they can, and woe betide any mere mortal who stands in their way.  Other's are focused on getting there a safely as they can, and ultimately drive in a fashion that annoys the life out of those who are intent on getting there as fast as they can.  There are the huge juggernauts that dominate the lanes through sheer size, cutting there way through the traffic like elephants stampeding through an afternoon tea party; and then there are the rest of us who are just hoping to get to where we are headed in at least one piece.

It only takes a few moments on that great swathe of grey asphalt to discover that the most sedate of us can be turned into a raging monster.  And what does it? What causes such a manic metamorphosis?  Ourselves! Yes folks...it's us.

What I began to realise on the journey down, after much blood sweat and tears (ok...a little poetic license there), was that I was inventing personalities for the drivers in the other cars.  Yes there were plenty of occasions where I was cut up, tail gated and held up by the safety squad, but the crucial part was not what some other driver did or did not do...it was how I reacted to them.  I started to realise that I was actually projecting on to other motorists my own frustrations.  It even got to the stage where I would almost look at another car and see it as “the enemy” and wouldn't settle until I had passed them and left them far behind.  And it would have to be far behind, because I would still be glaring at them in my rear view mirror.

This lunacy, I decided, couldn't be allowed to repeat itself after 10 days in the relaxing sea air of Cornwall.  So, as I mentioned, I decided to not allow myself to be drawn into any more “road wars” on the return journey.  And you know something...it worked a treat.  Now, that's not to say there were not a few moments where it was touch and go and 'Evil Andi' wanted to take over the driving; but on the whole, it turned out to be a much more civilised drive, arriving at our destination in one piece, on time and more importantly...still married.

So the life metaphor?  

How many times do I make enemies of people in my head before I even get to know them?  How many times do I assume I know how someone is going to react, or the reasons for why they acted in a certain way in the first place?  How many times do I just react, instead of stepping back and allowing a situation to just pass over me?  Why do I always think I have something to prove and so get upset when someone either gets in my way or passes me by?  

Why don't I just get over myself and learn to relax?  Because I'll still get there in the end, on time...but in a lot better shape than if I spend my life fighting imaginary wars. 

Let the peace of God be your guide.