Gossip

Circling Back to Three Wise Monkeys

To gossip, the verb, is an activity that feels like an itch being scratched, its allure dimmed only by its guilty, remorseful aftermath. Sometimes you find yourself in a group of people listening to a gossip (noun) gossip. Gossips are radioactive, and passing an evening with one feels like a week at Chernobyl.

I know this kind of a gossip. For years, I considered her a friend. She can be lively and amusing but also bitter and vindictive. If she were my friend solely, I would have ended our relationship. But, since I see her from time to time in the company of others, I have been present and watched her eviscerate people not present to defend themselves, lobbing confidential information and harsh opinions like hand grenades. Schadenfreude is the equivalent of cocaine in a group social setting. The person distributing it holds sway. But then, after listening, you know you were weak to indulge, and you walk away the worse for it.

Recently, I passed an evening in a group including the aforementioned gossip. She began by a character assassination of one of my very closest friends and ended by relaying a neighbor’s very private personal situation. Of course, everyone was riveted.

Even though I had not generated the gossip, I had allowed it. I defended my friend, but not anywhere near passionately enough. Like the rest of the group, I was dangling on every cruel word like meat on a meat hook.

It got me thinking. Growing up, my grandmother had a set of three carved monkeys from Japan that I loved to play with. They had the words see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil printed on the little pedestal they sat upon. As a child, I didn’t see them as instructive; they were just part of a makeshift plaything in a home with no actual toys. Looking back, though, I appreciate the importance of the parable they represent. “Speak no evil” has been a steady work in personal progress and I’ve made decent inroads, but “see” and “hear” are tricky, since those aspects of gossip are passive and by association, thus harder to control. But I’ve got a plan.

First, when gossip starts, change the subject. This can be accomplished subtly, but I am newly aspirational about being direct. The gossiping gossip should be made to feel uncomfortable. If that doesn’t work, walk out. The prospect is daunting, but today, I am thinking the single positive thing about the toxic gossiper’s recent venom spew is I find myself itching to prove that I am, at long last, as evolved as those three monkeys.