However deep our theoretical commitment to serenity, in the course of an average day, we're likely to encounter a number of extremely well-crafted invitations to lose our tempers badly.
Our partner will press a well-flagged nuclear button related, let's imagine, to their views on our mother or our career choice.
At work, a colleague may deliberately not answer a very simple question to which we so urgently need an answer.
A shop attendant may give us a bored, insolent shrug.
Someone in the supermarket may falsely accuse us of standing in the wrong line.
What we're apt to miss at such moments of blatant provocation as we get swallowed up in fears of humiliation, illogicality, and injustice is just how much many people enjoy having arguments, indeed crave them, in order to re-find their equilibrium and appease their psychic discomforts.
We're tricked into imagining that there may be genuine issues that require our wholehearted engagement, but we thereby lose sight of the true psychological motivations at play.
A person is trying to get us into a fight, not because they have a sincere complaint against us, but because they're feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of their own aggression, which they hope to placate by spoiling a portion of our lives.
By goading us into a battle, they're looking for a way to evacuate their fury into us, to use us as a receptacle for their emotional waste, to employ a skirmish with us to distract themselves from their own intractable conflicts and muted sorrows, to seduce us into joining them in their sadness and entanglements so that they might feel less alone and less bereft.
We should resist such enthusiastic and subtly crafted invitations by recognizing them for what they are: attempts by the other party to rescue themselves from unbearable feelings.
