"Gandhiji, I'm angry."

I was reading a short account of the life and death of Mahatma Gandhi earlier today. When the assassin's bullets found him he was making a gesture of forgiveness for the killer as he lay dying. He was also chanting "Ram" a Hindu name for an aspect of God.

Yesterday was payday for me. I checked my pay stub and found that I had been shorted two day's pay. It really pissed me off because this is the third paycheck in a row that I've been shorted on. Like most Americans, the only reason I go to work is to get money. When my employer fails to get it right on my paycheck, it's more than a hassle. It feels disrespectful and insulting, especially when it happens three paychecks in a row.

I work a 4pm to 4am shift. As I was heading into work yesterday afternoon after giving my employer an earful of vitriol I was still steaming. They were closing up shop in payroll for the weekend in a short time from then and they still hadn't gotten my money to me. I was thinking that I was going to be stewing all weekend over it.

I hate getting angry. It feels terrible. It ruins my peace and shatters my bliss. I'd like to be able to get beyond anger, but it still catches me sometimes. I said a little prayer and confessed to the dead saint I'd been reading about earlier in the day, "Gandhiji, I'm angry."

As soon as the thought passed through my mind, a picture of Gandhi forgiving his killer as the leader lay dying entered my head. Here I was all pissed off about a short delay in my pay, a few hundred dollars, and making everyone else around me upset while it threw off my equanimity. Gandhi retained his poise and love even in the face of the ultimate disrespect. He didn't miss a beat.

This concludes this episode of "As the Ego Dies."