Hatred

Summary

The author reflects on their absence of hatred, acknowledging a single moment of anger, and attributes their inherent kindness to their mother's perception.

Abstract

The article titled "Hatred" delves into the author's personal experience with the emotion of hatred, revealing that they have only experienced a genuine loss of temper once. The author's mother often described them as kind, even in the face of their childhood mischief. This characteristic of kindness is something the author has come to appreciate more deeply in adulthood. The piece explores the Buddhist concept of the three poisons—greed, hatred, and delusion—and the author admits to experiencing greed and delusion but feels they were born without the capacity for hatred. A rare instance of anger occurred when the author discovered a stolen car headlight, but the feeling quickly dissipated. The author contrasts their own lack of hatred with the common human experience of nurturing and acting upon such emotions, suggesting that their life may be richer and safer without them.

Opinions

The author believes they are inherently kind, as often affirmed by their mother.
They recognize greed and delusion as part of their nature but see themselves as devoid of hatred.
The author views their lack of hatred as a positive trait that contributes to their happiness and safety.
They acknowledge an unusual moment of anger but emphasize its fleeting nature.
The author perceives the capacity for hatred as a common human attribute that can be detrimental.
They suggest that living without hatred is an incomplete human experience, yet it is one that they are content with.

I Have Misplaced Mine

Image by Author

I seem to have misplaced my anger engine No great loss

For all the trouble I caused my mom (and dad, too) she had this one nice thing to say about me: “But he’s kind.”

She said this more than once. Sometimes in my defense, arguing with my dad about my tendency to nick things not well nailed down — mostly small, or not so small, change which I invariably converted to candy within minutes; sometimes just apropos of who knows what, “But he’s kind.” She said this with motherly certainty.

I didn’t put much stock in this at the time, but later in life (as in lately) I’ve come to see how right (and how perceptive) she was.

To my knowledge (and I should know, memory permitting) I have only lost my temper, as in gone furiously off as it were, once (which you can read about here).

I have read a thousand times that, according to Gotama Buddha, the three gravest afflictions of man are greed, hatred, and delusion. Greed I know about — at heart I have been as greedy as the next guy. Delusion makes sense to me though I’m not sure just to what degree I am deluded, which is part of being deluded, of course. But hatred?

It’s like I was born an incomplete human: someone left it out, forgot to stuff hatred in with the rest of the garbage. I was born hatred-less. I think my mom could sense that. “But he’s kind.”

Scouring this life I now spot one other instant when something like hatred flared. Heading off to work one morning I saw that someone had stolen one of my car’s (a Honda Prelude) headlights. The welling up out of nowhere was me (crowbar in hand) coming upon this thief in the process of defiling my car. In this welling up, in rage I struck the thief’s arm, and broke it, I struck his shoulder and broke it, I struck his leg and broke it — relishing this unusual, this warm, flooding hatred as if a drug.

Then it was gone. Evaporated. Never to return.

Yes, in a sense I am an incomplete human, born hatred-less and most likely very much the happier for it. The notion of hitting someone, or fighting someone (the headlight incident notwithstanding) is utterly alien to me; still, I know that many people do relish the fisticuffs stuff, nurse their hatred, bloom with it, and harness its energy to propel them forward in life — at often dangerous speed.

Me, I putter along, hatred-less.

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Hatred

I Have Misplaced Mine

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