THE UNSEEN HULK

It is possible to exude things, to project onto others a certain sense or feeling. I didn’t think it real until recently though when I paid attention to how quickly and profusely people apologize to me. Students, players that I coach and even other adults commonly avoid eye contact when they have news they think will, “let me down.” I thought it strange and more than that, sad. There is something angry in my nonverbal communication, something accusatory, something final. There’s an extremely critical posture in which I situate myself that threatens to unapprove and unfriend. It’s weird. Finding this truth had to be the product of revelation because it’s hard to see yourself through the eyes of other people.

The revelation started with me asking my wife, “Do I give off this vibe that suggests I’m done with you if you perform below my expectation?” Her answer was quick and precise in the affirmative. The next day, after training my Varsity basketball team, I brought up the subject and saw several players smiling with resonance. It was harrowing as I realized that one of my vices is passive aggressive intimidation; I specialize in guilting people into submission. It’s hard to provide anecdotes without guessing at how this stuff occurs when I’m dealing with people. So I won’t try to describe. Needless to say, there’s something brutish about it and I saw it in a dream a couple of nights after I realized what I’d been doing.

Fresh off of two trips to see Marvel’s The Avengers, I dreamed that the Incredible Hulk was trying to destroy me. His usual 10-15 foot tall, 1125 lb self, he proceeded to tramp and thrash as I struggled to evade him. The more angry he got, the larger he seemed and fear, while part of the experience, was not the focal emotion. I was more confused than anything wondering how I’d become the object of his rage. There was destruction all around me as he had battered the streets trying to rid the earth of me. I guess I should’ve been flattered that he’d pay me so much attention. But upon awakening, it was clear that the dream was a hackneyed metaphor for internal conflict. I was fighting myself.

The temptation to control people with high expectations is fueled by something beastly. There is a hate that can brew as the things of this world disappoint us. If a Hulk resides in me, he is characterized by the belief that people won’t change and their actions signify absolute evil. The Hulk, at least this version, is not unlike Marvel’s rendition. He is unruly and unpredictable. At his best he is an indomitable force for vanquishing villains. At his worst he is an indiscriminate hurricane willing to annihilate anything that isn’t HIM. And so that was my dream. I didn’t fight the Hulk with his own fury for fear that in doing so I would destroy myself. But it is clear that hating certain habits, traits and practices must not ever translate to people. The jurisdiction of condemnation doesn’t belong to me. I ought to choose to offer life at every encounter.