The Art of Promising Nothing and Getting No One Upset

Spiritual topsy-turvydome is released when you pull its ugly nose and rejoice at the universal lack of activity.

Of late, I witnessed an urgent need to educate myself in all the riff-raffs of the art of promising nothing.

We were married for only a year, and we were comic in a tragedy of our incongruities. I was all the unconscious and elementary promising and planning. He was an utter superiority in relaxation, passionate leisure, and relief. I thirsted first and last to know what happens next, to clear the picture of tomorrow. My husband needed to get clear of the whole poisonous atmosphere of 'must-s' and 'have to-s'. He wanted to say "I don't know" to any question involving the exact timing of any activity. He craved for freedom to change his mind in an hour's, and even a minute's time consulting only his fancy. It was an utter madness for my unable-to-relax mind.

"Your talk is a torrent of nonsense, love, you and I can change our minds whenever and whatever reason might be or with no reason," I could trace curious hilarity in his voice. My lips curled with semi-amused indecision and I said, "But, hun, we planned this vacation with my sister's family for three months now. It will upset them no end if we decide not to go." He looked at me disapprovingly. We both dreaded the occasion because by that time we realized that we would hate my sibling and her husband if we spend together over three days, not talking about a fortnight. My husband offered to have a wonderful two-week retreat instead. Just two of us in a beautiful bungalow that his mate had vacant for a lucky occasion. My obstinacy was the only obstacle to make this change of plans a happy reality. The vacation was fantastic. The prickles of my conscious robbed it of some brightness, but none of its turbulent sensuousness. My sister couldn't toss away her wounded pride and nursed her grudge with maternal protectiveness. She didn't talk to me for almost six weeks. It took even longer for us to become familiar and confidential again.

I said to my coworker I loved kids, and she asked me with so much feeling in her eyes to watch her two-year-old a couple of evenings a month. I thought, "What is the difference if I spend a few hours with her child now and then?" A mischievous two-year-old boy changed this rosy picture of an enjoyable evening I had. I was forced without pussyfooting around to say, "I cannot devote another hour of my life to this laborious task of taking care of your sweet boy. He pulled my hair, broke every smashable thing in my house, and stealing my pen, left his immortal art on my walls." The truth is, I should have told her right away, that I love kids in general and seldom get well with a particular child one on one. I and my coworker never bordered the line of close friendship, but we had a good cup of coffee and a hearty laugh now and then.

"You see, I didn't notice at the time of my comfort or discomfort. I found myself thinking about it only later, when at home and with this puss. I said I will take care of it while she is away with her boyfriend." I felt that this time I was on the windy side of our relationship. He had a hard time composing himself and almost roared, "It is much worse than that. You didn't notice MY comfort. I have an allergy. Do you want me to swallow pills now for an entire week? Why didn't you even think to call me and ask first?" I needed to pick up all the excuses possible. I responded with extravagant hopelessness, "She was so insistent and agitated. I felt somewhat confused, and it happened as if by itself. I will call her right away and tell her I couldn't be of help." My friend was rightfully drowning her disappointment in complete indifference. She met me with her bags packed and I paid for my broken promise with our friendship adopting an enormous crack. We lost intimacy in our conversations and only much later regained it fully back.

On another occasion, I had a horrid headache but had a line on my schedule that I couldn't crisscross. My girlfriend had a baby shower that evening and I was an honored guest. I swallowed a painkiller and went, but had to go away in the middle of the fun and take my pain out, for my head was exploding. My husband's speech was incurably tragic, "What the deuce did you go? You have no end of a head on your shoulders, love, but you are quite incompetent for simply doing nothing. Why the internal blazes should you want to please everyone?" I stuffed down my pride and admitted, "I just was thinking how upset she would be with me if I didn't go. You don't know how I'm tired of always thinking how to make everybody happy and forgetting about myself." I finished my revelation, rephrasing a nursery rhyme, "I'm a crooked girl and go a crooked way." I attempted to smile, but my grin suddenly went wrong and I bust out with tears of self-pity.

My husband always had that daring disregard for public opinion. It never occurred to him to do something he didn't want to. He was fighting with my large, precise plans, over exaggerative mind, and too big of a heart with very obvious spiritual strength. "I will teach you to be selfish enough to add eccentricity and irregularity in your life," he said in a deep voice at once of tenderness and volume. "You should take no notice of what others think about you. Put yourself first, love. You'll have more happiness for us if you save yourself from constantly making others happy."

"Oh, you are preaching to me again," whispered I with the right smile this time and the right kiss that followed it.

I prepared myself for a plunge into cold waters of hesitative 'I cannot promise' and definite 'No'.

I always lived more for others than for myself. I needed everyone to experience my kind attention, and in my longing to stage my contented relationships with the world, I missed the greatest happiness with my most dear people.

I promised things in a bantering way, only to discover later on that it put me and my family in all the turvydome of inconveniences. I positively, with not a shadow of a doubt, agreed to take my niece to her karate class every Wednesday, not considering that I might need some of my Wednesdays for other things. The polite answer to her asking me would've been a magic "I cannot promise".

I told my girlfriend I will edit her papers, not mentioning that some days I may have some other important things to do and may not be able to meet her due date. In this case, I should've used the same doubtful "I cannot promise".

I lent money, which was often my only means for paying bills and buying food, to help my super stylish girlfriend buy new designer shoes, dresses, and jewelry. The simplest solution was to give her my explicit "No".

I discovered the gratified satisfaction of promising nothing and getting no one upset.

There is a hungry, wolfish look about a person striving for approval from everybody. This craving is never fully satisfied because the stock of people in our life is constantly renewed. In this chase to please others, one forgets about the meaning of creation.

• You are born to experience the world and adore your ineffable presence in it - not to please others.

• Your voice should sound clearly and forcefully when you express your glorified desires.

• Recognize your own capacity and feel the paternal protectiveness of hesitative "I don't know", "I cannot promise", and straightforward "No" that makes you the master of your life.

The memory of you being frank and thoughtful when taking responsibility or denying the obligation will console the one who is wishing you well, and will make a weaker person envy your powerful personality.