I've read everyone's posts. These are very interesting. I like to ask my family for advice - well, sometimes I get it even if I don't ask! - and what I've learned is what each says reflects his or her particular perspective on life. There is really no absolute truth, and the important thing is to form one's own interpretation, to find the perspective that's right for you.
I certainly cannot say that what I chose would be right for everyone, or even most. As I said in my first post, why I chose to practice mindful non-action - before I was going to raise my concerns with my neighbor a second time - made all the difference for me. If someone is merely being silent out of fear, that is unhealthy. Infringing on a neighbor's peaceful enjoyment is not right, and I'm not suggesting we just let others walk over us. I had a housemate who liked to smoke in the house, and after multiple, heated conversations and escalating to the landlord - none of which made a lasting difference on his behavior - I just left. I'm no stranger to community politics, and although I dislike it, I've been proactive in the past about speaking up. I just find that because we tend not to be able to change others' behavior, and because we don't always have the ability to just end the situation immediately - how many people can just quit a job or change housing today? - it helps to find a way to create inner peace.
I think the difference is also cultural. There's a famous story about an emperor who went to the countryside to visit his people. He came across an old grandfather who lived with multiple generations of his family in the same house. It was chaos. There was no privacy, and apparently little peace with constant chores and arguments. The emperor asked the old man how it was possible to live like this. The old man said, ren (tolerance). The emperor was deeply moved, and richly rewarded the man for his wisdom. I heard that story many times growing up.
I grew up in America and abroad, so I have some perspective on both. In my culture, maturity is considered the ability to internally regulate one's emotions and maintain one's composure, even without speaking. That's why I take a lot from Native American culture as well, which has such sayings as "Never pass up a chance to keep your mouth shut" or "Silence is the mother of truth, for the silent man is ever to be trusted, while the man ever ready with speech was never taken seriously." To a Westerner, these sound incredible. Western culture celebrates the brash - and I love that. But those who cultivate silence may be considered pushovers, disengaged, or having no personality. Sometimes that's true, sometimes it's not.
I don't have any real answers. I'm just learning from my life, and all of you. After his outburst - and my noise complaint - my neighbor has been exceptionally quiet. Turns out, he's not all about that bass. As I mentioned, he actually has been extremely quiet in general, certainly more than me, except for those two weeks or so where he was probably "retaliating" (in his mind) against me for playing cello "after hours". As far as I can tell, his primary issue seems to be he goes to bed earlier than me (and my area's "quiet hours"). I am willing to shift my practice time to end a half hour or so early. I'm sure there are those who will say any compromise is weakness. But quiet hours here end at 7am. If we all just followed the law to the letter, I'd never get my all-important late morning rest. If he turns up his system again - or tries something like banging on a wall - I'm going to simply file a second complaint, and depending on the level and time, call the cops. But it won't be out of anger. I will be simply protecting my interest. And he will be the one moving, if anyone needs to.
You know why I believe in giving people chances? Once, when I was younger and somehow, even less wise than I am now, I was the one screaming at my neighbor. He'd been smoking outside, in his own little patch of dirt - perfectly legal, not in violation of any terms - and the fumes wafted into my open window. He didn't smoke often. Instead of just shutting my window, or appreciating the fact that he was smoking outside and not inside where the fumes could've come in through wall cracks, I yelled out of my window, accusing him of polluting the community where children lived. I was determined not to give in, not to budge an inch. He answered back, in a much deeper voice. A few minutes later, as I came out, he approached me. He'd done nothing wrong, and I had no right to berate him. But he wasn't angry. I don't remember what he said, except to help me understand that we didn't need to argue. This old football coach had probably dealt with a hundred knuckleheads like me before. As I left, he told me that when I played cello, he turned off his TV so he could hear me better.
People are complicated. Sometimes I hear myself better when I don't talk. I don't know anything, but I know myself.
