A SWEET-TEMPERED BOXER

"Southpaw", charcoal,
by Connie Chadwell

“It is this almost pugnacious acceptance of reality that distinguishes him…”

-- Michael Sadlier, in Anthony Trollope: A Commentary

         Until I read Mr. Sadlier’s essay, I would never have considered using the words “acquiescent” and “pugnacious” in a discussion of how to live a good life, but he used them so appropriately in his treatise on the Victorian novelist that I begin wondering whether a truly successful person has to be, you might say, pugnaciously acquiescent. It’s thought-provoking that the word “acquiesce” derives from the Latin word for “quiet”, for it suggests that an acquiescent person is simply one who finds more reasons for inner peace and quiet than for unease and apprehension. The word literally means “to be at rest”, which summons up a picture of a person who treats whatever happens in life as a noteworthy occurrence that should be quietly welcomed and walked around and appraised. This is a person who knows that little can be gained by giving battle, but that surprising strength can be gained through simple acceptance. To be sure, I’m not speaking about a submissive and spineless acceptance, but rather a pugnacious one – the kind of acquiescence that says, in feisty tones, “Yes, I’m brave enough to say yes to life as it shows itself to me, life as it truly is.” It’s a courageous kind of acquiescence, more willing to wonder and marvel at life’s occurrences than condemn and castigate them. Of course, there will be times when, for one reason or another, events will deserve a person’s censure, but the censure should be given with the same humble acquiescence -- the same sense of quietly accepting what simply needs to be done. A person can be both tough and soft, both stern and merciful. It’s like being sweet-tempered, but with boxing gloves on.