For a long time, I’ve been a fan of Herman Melville’s “Bartleby the Scrivener”. It wasn’t just that I liked the story, I almost came to venerate Bartleby and his trademark catchphrase. “I prefer not to.” To me, these words were a magical incantation for oppressed people everywhere. Say the words, and you are granted the power to opt out of doing anything that just doesn’t feel right.
The word “no” has incredible power. Two little letters capable of bringing questions, opportunities and dialogue to a full stop. “Tell me what you are thinking?” No. “Do you want to get together with friends later?” No. “Is there anything wrong?” No, no, NO. I exercise my inner Bartleby a lot, and did again yesterday when Sue asked me (probably for the 5th or 6th time) to do a Bikram yoga session with her. I’m not really interested in doing yoga, and the idea of doing it in a steaming hot box of a room makes it really easy for Bartleby to reply.
Obviously, there are many times when “no” is needed. But for me, “no” is also an excuse. “No” is a cop out. For all I know, I might actually LOVE Bikram. It might be the greatest thing I’ve ever done for either my physical or mental health. So why don’t I want to do it? Because I’m afraid. I’m afraid I won’t be able to do it. Afraid everyone will be watching. And honestly, the combination of those two possibilities is what has me saying “I’d prefer not to” over and over.
In the midst of all the veneration, I was probably ignoring a critical fact about the scrivener. At the end of the story Bartleby dies, penniless and alone. Fat lot of good the incantation did him. And it’s probably just as well. Because “no” is a stop sign, a closed door. If I’m going to find meaning, I’m going to need to do things differently. And for that to happen, Bartleby must die.
Hot box yoga, here I come.
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