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Don’t Crowd Me
A few years ago, I went to the local high school’s first home football game, which, like most home openers, was well-attended.
Afterward, I was exhausted. I mean, absolutely exhausted, like I had lead around my shoulders. I’d had a hard week at work, but the level of exhaustion was practically preternatural.
I realized the next day that I frequently have that feeling after returning home from many hours among crowds: the feeling of exhaustion.
The experience also tends to put me in a bad mood. Or, more precisely, it puts me in a different frame of mind that I don’t find pleasant. It’s like the experience somehow upsets my (already limited) equanimity.
My distaste for crowds doesn’t rise to the level of agoraphobia, but it’s nonetheless pretty sharp. I don’t know where it comes from (Do I dislike people? Am I weird? Am I so self-conscious (vain) that I’m constantly on edge when others can see me?).
Regardless of where it comes from, I don’t think I can help it: like it or not, when I come back from an event with crowds, I’m out of sorts.
A few weeks later, I was going through my highlightings in Seneca’s letters. I came across his comments about crowds. They gave me comfort:
[W]hat you should regard as especially to be avoided? I say, crowds. . . [When I go out…
