The Lasting Impact of Small Kindnesses

"Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless."
― Mother Teresa

I just finished reading a great book, It's Easier Than You Think by Sylvia Boorstein, which is filled with many nuggets of personal wisdom.  Its subtitle is The Buddhist Way to Happiness.

Boorstein shares that when she was 19 and newly married, she unexpectedly had to handle funeral arrangements for a great-aunt.  She admits to having been afraid of death and so very grateful when her father-in-law generously agreed to accompany her to the funeral home.  At one point, the funeral director told Boorstein that one of the women in the family needed to "inspect the body."  Boorstein writes that she must have blanched because her father-in-law said that he would do it.  Because of that moment, when she thinks of her father-in-law, she feels "a big hit of gratitude and heart opening." 

There are kindnesses like that.  They are so significant that we remember them always and we have a deep appreciation for the person who was generous.  Many kindnesses can fit the bill.  Some of them are those being there moments.  But then there are the more random ones, the ones that the person doing the kindness may even have forgotten.  There is a gentleman who has since moved away who defended me after an ugly condo meeting.  I can't imagine that he remembers, but I do.

And then there are the kindnesses I have encountered at violin camp.  A couple of years ago, I was one of the few adult students at a mostly children's violin camp.  I had taken lessons for less than a year and I was not only pretty bad at the violin, but also very intimidated by the whole experience.  In one class, I had a teacher in his 20s (young enough to be my son), who was very accomplished as a fiddler and composer.  Given his age, I was surprised to hear all kinds of wisdom from him on the first day of class, including his take on how we should view our camp experience.  He said that we could either be intimidated by how well other people played or we could be inspired by it.  Although I remained firmly in the intimidated camp, his words introduced the possibility of another lens through which to view the experience.

On the last night of camp, there was a final concert that included playing on stage with the person whose teaching method inspired the camp, a Grammy Award-winning violinist and composer.  I nearly died when my group performed and I seriously considered not returning to the stage for the final number.  Somehow, I found a drop of courage and approached the stage, but I decided to remain partially hidden by the curtains in the wings, so that no one would see me.  Well, the young teacher saw me and motioned for me to join everyone on stage.  I did and had one of the best times of my life.  His kindness, which I cannot imagine that he remembers, gave me the gift of a unique experience.

This year, I wound up in one of his classes again, this time with my son, who enjoys composing music.  At the end of the class, this teacher -- Andy Reiner -- gave my 7-year-old son his business card and told him that he could e-mail him at any time and he would help him with his music.  This is something that Andy generously tells all of his students.  But as I saw my son proudly take the business card, I thought again about the lasting impact that seemingly small moments of kindness can have.

The Kindness of Southern Hospitality

"A warm smile is the universal language of kindness."
― William Arthur Ward

There seems to be a number of theories on what is behind Southern Hospitality -- everything ranging from that it covers up less appealing aspects of the South to that it is rooted in the Biblical notion of the Good Samaritan.  Whatever its origin and reason for being, I definitely have felt it as I travel in that part of the country.

I have been visiting Charleston, one of my favorite U.S. cities, and I continue to marvel at how I am more often than not met with smiles and greetings from strangers.  Yesterday morning as I was getting ready to cross the street on foot, a woman in her car was blocking the crosswalk.  Before I stepped off the curb, she backed up the car, so that I could more easily cross.  I was very touched by her thoughtfulness, so I gave her a big wave and a smile, and she returned both.  Her simple kindness impacted me and probably brightened both of our days.

As I thought about that short exchange between strangers, it occurred to me that many things had been communicated between us -- all without words.  The driver had conveyed that she had seen me and that she was eager to make my life a little easier.  I communicated my appreciation.  And with our smiles and waves, we agreed that it was a pleasant connection and even seemed to wish each other a nice day.  It reminded me of my friend's guiding principle:  "When in doubt, reach out."

How amazing it is that even without words, we can connect with each other and share a little kindness.

Courage and Kindness

"There are men and women who make the world better just by being the kind of people they are.  They have the gift of kindness or courage or loyalty or integrity.  It really matters very little whether they are behind the wheel of a truck or running a business or bringing up a family.  They teach the truth by living it."
― James A. Garfield, 20th President of the United States

A very good friend of mine is travelling in China with her two young daughters, both of whom were adopted from there.  She has dreamed about and planned this trip for years.  It was important to my friend that her daughters have an appreciation for their birth country.  The family has had the trip of a lifetime and I have been blessed to receive updates on their adventure. 

A couple of days ago, my friend wrote to share that she had crossed two huge mountains on a hanging bridge -- and she is afraid of heights!

"It was the most terrifying thing I have ever done," she shared.  "The girls were not the slightest bit scared."

When I wrote back, I told her that she was very brave and asked her whether she was outside of her comfort zone.  She replied: "I have done many things out of my comfort zone so that I don't pass my phobias on to the girls."

Courage* -- which is not being fearless, but forging ahead regardless -- can be kindness to others in various ways.  Sometimes, we have to brave to be kind: Think of all the first responders who risk their lives every day.  And then sometimes, it is about setting an example, like my friend in China.  I know she shares many of my fears and phobias, and yet she digs in and forges ahead for the sake of her girls.  What a terrific example!  I admire her so much.

And as if her courage is not enough, yesterday morning, she shared their kind act of the day:  They saw a little girl, maybe seven years old, taking care of her baby brother, and they gave her a box of crayons and a colouring book.  "She couldn't believe it," my friend wrote.  "Her smile was priceless."

I would say that a mother overcoming her fears to set an important example for her daughters is not only kind, but also priceless.

* One dictionary I consulted defines "courage" as "the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc. without fear."  I respectfully disagree with the "without fear" part.  I believe that people who are brave forge ahead in spite of their fears.

The Kindness of RSVP-ing

"A tree is known by its fruit, a man by his deeds.  A good deed is never lost, he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants kindness gathers love."
― Saint Basil

One of the Kindness Muses suggested that I write about RSVP-ing as kindness.  She hosted an event at her home yesterday and some people did not respond to the invitation.  It sounded like a great idea to me, but I felt a bit awkward because, in the interest of full disclosure, I do not have a perfect RSVP-ing record -- much as I would like to.  But I knew it was a terrific suggestion.

My friend the hostess spent time cleaning her house and preparing for the event.  "I can't believe that some folks have just ignored the invitation!!" she wrote yesterday morning.  "Not kind!"

For guidance, I reached out to another dear friend who has the most impeccable manners.  In fact, one would not expect more of him on the thoughtfulness and politeness fronts if he were a viscount and dedicated himself full-time to the pursuit of good living with ample time for the social graces.  But he is a busy professional and father, and yet he always RSVPs and writes beautiful thank you notes to boot.  He was travelling, but that did not deter him from responding to me right away.

"I think if someone was kind and thoughtful enough to invite you to an event, out of courtesy and respect, one should promptly RSVP," he said.  "It shows respect and appreciation to your host."

The subject of not RSVP-ing has been broadly covered, especially with respect to weddings.  In one article, the author included a photo of a humorous RSVP card that set forth various options for responding, including "resentfully attend" and "will decline to respond but ultimately attend."

What is it with some of us not RSVP-ing to events, even sometimes?  For me, at times it is trying to figure out if our family schedule will permit attending.  When my children were younger, I used to try to attend every birthday party to which they were invited, but over time that can be more than we really want to do.  I think some of us, and definitely I include myself here, don't want to over-commit and yet we feel guilty for not going and so we waffle and that waffling gets in the way of responding.  Poor excuses, for sure.  The bottom line is that there is no good excuse to not RSVP.  And now that I have written that, I will certainly try to follow in the footsteps of people like my hostess friend and the viscount, and make a much bigger effort to respond.  After all, it is most definitely the kind thing to do.

Kindness through Manners

"Manners embrace socially acceptable behavior, of course, but also much more than that.  They are an expression of how you treat others when you care about them, their self-esteem, and their feelings.  Manners are under your control because they come from the heart.  In a chaotic world, they can make order out of disorder and give you the power to bring pleasure into other people's lives."
― Letitia Baldrige

My husband has teased me for years that if I ever established a foundation, it would be called Peace through Civility.  I can't deny it - I am a big believer in the importance of good manners.  For me, manners and kindness go hand in hand.

When I was about 7 or 8 years old, a family friend brought me a box of books.  I still remember taking the books out of the big brown box.  Among the box's treasures was a light yellow book titled White Gloves and Party Manners.  The book quickly became a favorite and I eagerly devoured its details.  I enjoyed learning about what certain social situations required and I have no doubt that it gave me, a quiet and somewhat shy little girl, a small boost in confidence.  Originally published in 1965, the book recently sold its millionth copy.  I am not sure why this friend brought the books or why I was so drawn to the one on etiquette.  But that gift triggered a life-long fascination with manners.

Knowing of my interest in manners, a wonderful boss I had more than 20 years ago gave me her invitation to a luncheon and book signing with Letitia Baldrige, former White House chief of staff for Jacqueline Kennedy, world-famous expert and author on manners, and one of my heroes.  I was thrilled.  And it is indeed from my signed copy of the book that I took the quote at the top of this post.

A couple of years after meeting Mrs. Baldrige, I was in the midst of an invitation-wording dilemma at a new job.  I had a couple of her books open on my desk, but still could not find the answer.  I called Information in Washington, D.C. and, to my surprise, found that she was listed.  I held my breath as I dialed and was ecstatic when she picked up the phone.  Using my best telephone voice and manners, I quickly explained my dilemma and she answered my question.  I don't remember the issue or her answer, but I do recall how delighted I was to speak with her.  And, of course, her graciousness.

Why do I think manners matter?  Manners are a way of expressing kindness, of saying that we care enough to make sure that our behavior reflects how we feel.  When we dress appropriately for an occasion, whether it is a church service or a dinner in someone's home, we are saying without uttering a word that we care enough to make an effort.  When we use manners at the table or in greeting people, we show again that we care.  And while thank you notes may seem perfunctory, when we take the time to write them, we honor the thoughtfulness of the person who made the gift.  Call me old-fashioned, but I like to express kindness through manners.

Kindness on an Unexpected Journey

"Every minute of every hour of every day you are making the world, just as you are making yourself, and you might as well do it with generosity and kindness and style."
― Rebecca Solnit

As I prepared to leave on a short summer vacation, I decided that making the time and effort to go to a yoga class in the midst of what I call the "rah-rah-rah" of getting ready to go would be a good thing.  I needed calm, which would be kind not only to me, but also to my family.

When I arrived at the yoga studio, there was a sub instead of the regular teacher.  I tried to let go of my attachment to my expectation (not entirely successfully).  The sub was very nice.  Small and perky, she had a voice that reminded me of a cheerleader.  She also had not an ounce of fat on her body -- hard as I tried to find it.  I tried to go along for the ride.

Not surprisingly, as I let go of my expectations and attachment to a certain experience, I found myself in a terrific yoga class.  At the end of class, she asked us to join her in a call and response chant.  To my surprise, this young woman had a deep, earthy, soulful voice that took me on an unexpected journey to a universal, spiritual place.  In the midst of preparation madness, I found myself singing and feeling "shanti" -- peace -- with a renewed appreciation for what happens when you can even partially let go.  Kindness.

The Kindness of Pausing and Observing

"What wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?"
― Jean-Jacques Rousseau
 

For the last couple of days, it seems that much in my life has been about pausing and observing.  In my work as an executive coach, I have been having conversations about stepping back or away from situations.  This morning in yoga class, the teacher focused on pausing.  And in a book I am reading by Sylvia Boorstein, she directed the reader to do nothing but feel comfortable for 15 minutes.  Taking a pause can be a kindness to ourselves and to others.

An article in the New York Times last year stated that taking a break while we are working is important because taking regular breaks from mental tasks improves productivity and creativity as our minds need time to recover from sustained use just as we need to take rests between weight-lifting repetitions at the gym.

When I was going through my coaching training, I was told to "observe" my behavior as homework.  I did not understand what observation would do for me as it sounded passive.  But, in trying it, I realized that observing can be the first step toward change.  To observe ourselves in a situation, we have to take a step away from what we are doing.  And in that small movement away from a situation, we frequently find that we can move toward something else, which may be what we really want.

There is wisdom to be found in a pause.  It can enable us to recharge and regroup, or to gain perspective.  Given the speed at which our lives move, which seems faster and faster by the year, taking a time out to rest, to observe or just "to be" can be helpful -- and kind.

The Kindness of Community

"We cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known, and when we honor the spiritual connection that grows from that offering with trust, respect, kindness and affection."
― Brené Brown

There is something special about community that helps us along life's journey.  While we initially may come together around a shared interest or affiliation, when we connect with others and understand how much we are alike, it is that bond of being human that kindles closeness and that allows us to be our best -- and kindest -- selves.

Last night, a group of us who had completed a religious retreat a couple of months ago gathered.  We updated each other on our lives, we sought solace in the advice of others, we found joy in being together.  At the end of the evening, we stood together to pray, young women and not so young, pregnant and way past that possibility, single, married and widowed.  We held hands in a circle on a deck overlooking the beach, with a spectacular moon reflecting on the dark water and a gentle tropical breeze across our faces.  We prayed for our own intentions, we prayed for our family and friends ...  From different backgrounds and with varied life experiences, we found powerful connection in sharing our deepest wishes and fears.  The differences and the details of our lives seemed to disappear as we marveled at the almost full moon shining brightly over the pitch-black ocean.  We were awestruck by the beauty of the evening and the beauty of our gathering.  Whether we had burdens and needed comfort, or whether we wanted to celebrate with others, I believe we all left feeling supported and uplifted, buoyed by the kindness of each other. 

The Kindness of Being There

"The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief or bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing ... not healing, not curing ... that is a friend who cares."
― Henry Nouwen

Yesterday morning, I watched as three friends gathered for another friend's Memorial Mass.  All women in their late 50s-early 60s, they each arrived separately at the church, the first making room for the second in the pew, and then the other two making more room when the third arrived.  There were no words spoken as they stood side by side -- together.  They were there for their friend who had passed, but they also were there for each other.  It made me think of the kindness of being there.

I still remember the people who showed up when my grandmother, father and stepfather died, even though it was more than 10 years ago.  I even remember moments from my grandfather's funeral more than 30 years ago.

There are moments in life that are especially hard, like funerals.  There are the happy rites of passage -- births, weddings, birthdays ...  And then there are the other moments, not headline grabbing, but significant:  a ride to the airport to pick up a baby from China, the visit to the divorce lawyer's office, your child in the hospital, the doctor's appointment that is scary ...  Moments that matter.  And moments when being there is a very appreciated kindness.

Being there connects us to each other.  It says quietly that we care -- even though there may be nothing that we can do to make a situation better.  Sometimes being there involves helping in a concrete way.  Sometimes it may be a card or a note that we send.  Or a text message or an e-mail.  It can be Facetime-ing or Skype-ing from a world away.  Or it may just be the simple and yet very meaningful gift of presence.  Being there says, "you matter to me."  And it is a kindness that stays with us.

A Legacy of Kindness: Martha de la Fuente Elortegui

Oh I believe there are angels among us.
Sent down to us from somewhere up above.
They come to you and me in our darkest hours.
To show us how to live, to teach us how to give.
To guide us with the light of love.
― Lyrics from Angels Among Us (songwriters Don Goodman & Becky Hobbs) 

"If instead of a gem, or even a flower, we should cast the gift of a loving thought into the heart of a friend, that would be giving as the angels give."

― George MacDonald, Scottish author and poet
 

A very special friend of mine would have turned 60 today.  But she died in November after a short and very courageous battle with leukemia.  She left behind a devoted husband and three children.

Growing up, I had known her as the beautiful older sister of friends from high school.  She was gorgeous and glamorous, and we, the younger girls, imitated her terrific fashion sense.  Fast forward a couple of decades:  She was a teacher at my children's school.  We went on a religious retreat together.  We became friends.  And she became, quite simply, my angel.  She came into my life when I most needed her.

Mrs. E, as the children called her, was that special brand of teacher who gets the big picture, who understands that engaging children is key to developing a lifelong love of learning.  Many children considered her a special friend as well as a beloved teacher.  The yearbook advisor, she had a special relationship with the students, both the older ones as well as the younger ones.  She was awarded Teacher of the Year posthumously and this last year book was dedicated to her.

She taught all of my children.  When my son was in Kindergarten, she introduced herself to the class and one boy said that her name sounded like "pig."  My son jumped in and said, "It sounds like heart to me."  She was very touched by that and we began calling her Mrs. Heart.  It was very appropriate. 

My children loved going to her classroom after school.  And it was hard to get them to leave.   When one of my children needed additional help -- less to do with academics and more to do with self-esteem, she was there.  And the love she gave all of my children was boundless. 

We frequently went to her house after school and she pampered my children to no end.  There were treats (brownies and popcorn) and rides on her golf cart, which thrilled them.  After one of her hospital stays last summer, she invited my children over for an ice cream party.  It is one of my fondest memories.

For me, she was like an older sister.  I often thought that she saw me at my worst during the late afternoons as I ran around harried, shuttling children between activities.  More than once, she stayed with my three children, so that I could manage what I needed to do.  She encouraged me to be a strong advocate for my children.  She always seemed to cross my path -- literally -- when I was especially overwhelmed.  Much more adept at technology that I could ever be, she helped me with work projects and volunteer projects.  When I showed up at her classroom after school with a blinding migraine, she ran to the store to get me what I needed.  I always felt that there wasn't anything she wouldn't do for me.  And, the remarkable thing is that I wasn't the only person who felt that way.

We had a great time together.  We confided in each other.  We discussed family, hair color and clothing.  Neither one of us could go very long without lip balm.  We loved chatting in her driveway, watching neighbors and their dogs go by.  Enjoying the day-to-day.  She was always so incredibly happy for me and for my accomplishments, always giving me more credit that I felt was my due.  When she was sick, I tried to keep my small challenges from her, but she saw right through me and insisted that I continue to share what was going on in my life.

When people think about her, probably the first thing that comes to mind is her smile, which reflected her amazing kindness.  She really was one of those people who lit up a room as she entered.  But she never sought the limelight.  When she became ill, she was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support from the school community.  All that love actually surprised her.  What did she expect?  I asked her.  It made perfect sense to me.  When I went to see her in the hospital, her smile always greeted me and melted away any apprehension I had about how she might be.  She maintained her sense of style and grace, and I told her that only she could be such a "fashionista" in the hospital.

It was a shock when she died.  I believed she would get better and hoped that one day we would look back at this difficult phase in her life.  Anything else was not fathomable.  When her health began to fail that last week, I kept praying for a miracle.  On the afternoon of what would have been my father's 75th birthday, her daughter texted me to say that she was gone.  After I shared the sad news with my children, we all cried and we went to pray at the chapel where she had frequently encouraged me to pray.

Sometimes, especially when I am at the children's school, I feel her presence.  It is like a breeze that brushes past my face unexpectedly and makes me smile.  One of the first times it happened, I went to talk to one of her closest colleagues because I thought she might be the only person who would understand.  She listened to me and smiled, and then told me she sensed her, too.

As I was leaving the church after a Memorial Mass for her, I struggled to make sense of her passing.  On the way to my car, and almost without realizing it, I began to quietly sing Angels Among Us.  It occurred to me that she had been an angel, showing me how to live, teaching me how to give and guiding me forever with the light of her love. 

A Sunday Kindness: Taking our Aspirations One Moment at a Time

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
―The Serenity Prayer

Since high school, I have been enamored of the Serenity Prayer.  I first read it on a graduating senior's yearbook page.  Attributed to American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, the prayer is used by Alcoholics Anonymous and various other 12-step programs.  My yoga teacher frequently has us say it together at the end of class.  I always seem to take a deeper breath before I say those lines -- asking for serenity, courage and wisdom.  Seems like a tall order.  Very aspirational.

But the Serenity Prayer is actually longer and I particularly like the next two lines:

Living one day at a time

Enjoying one moment at a time

Perhaps one moment at a time, we can not only enjoy our lives, but also move forward on our aspirations.  There is kindness in allowing ourselves to take small steps.

The Kindness of Saying No

"Truth is a deep kindness that teaches us how to be content in our everyday life and share with the people that same happiness."
―Khalil Gibran

Sometimes kindness means having to say no.

Over the years, I have found myself in several business and volunteer commitments that didn't make sense for me.  Most of the time, I ended up resenting my having acquiesced to the arrangement.  Sometimes, I felt guilty if I thought I wasn't meeting expectations.

But this week, I said no twice -- once to a business opportunity and the other to a volunteer commitment.  One was harder than the other because I very much like and admire the person who asked.  But as I told this wonderful woman who invited me to join her organization, I am not the right person for her board.  I knew that I could not give the organization what it needed and the commitment was not a responsibility I could presently handle.  So I said no and was kind to us both.

Many people have trouble saying no to commitments and opportunities for a variety of reasons:  We want to be helpful, we are conflict averse, we don't want to appear rude ...  All reasons that make us feel that we would be less than kind if we said no.

But I agree with Paul Huljich, who wrote in Psychology Today in November 2012:  "Saying No is one of the most important ingredients in a life filled with peace of mind and contentment."

For me saying no has become easier as I have developed more clarity about my values and priorities.  I know now that by saying no I am not only being kind to me, but to others as well.

Kindness at Work

"Getting money is not all a man's business: to cultivate kindness is a valuable part of the business of life."
― Samuel Johnson

Kindness in the workplace seems to be increasingly a subject for discussion, from articles in the Harvard Business Review to a conference at Stanford University in April where more than a dozen social scientists, business executives and compassion experts gathered to talk about Compassion & Business.  One of the themes of the Stanford conference was that caring for your own well-being and caring for the well-being of others are not at odds. 

Years ago, I was blessed with a terrific colleague at work.  During my first weeks on the job, she always made it a point to remind me about meetings that I needed to attend.  On one occasion when I was especially overwhelmed with work, I opened my e-mail to find a document that I had to produce already drafted.  Knowing I was very busy, she had asked another colleague who reported to her to draft it for me.  She supported me in quiet ways and never felt the need to tell anyone about her kindnesses.  Needless to say, I was very sorry when she left the organization and remember her as one of the best colleagues I have ever had.  Although she moved abroad, we stay in touch and I am always eager to see her when she is in town.

A young professional at a public accounting firm recently shared that he received an unexpected kindness when a client called after a particularly complicated deal to thank him for his work on the project.  He was very surprised because in his eight years of working, he had never had a client call with appreciation.  "It made me feel good and I appreciated it," he said. "Sometimes we work long hours and it seems as though it is for nothing."

In her blog The Intentional Workplace, Louise Altman writes:  "To rekindle kindness in the workplace, we need to regain our focus on what we truly believe is important.  We can block our natural empathic impulses with beliefs, judgments and emotions that keep us separate from other people.  We can lose ourselves in the endless demands of business imperatives – which are usually not people centric.  We can blame a harsh and uncivil vision of the world for our aloofness and cynicism.  But finally, it comes down to us - to the moment by moment choices we make to look away – or extend a hand."

The experts agree that compassion and kindness are generally good for business.  Those of us who have been blessed with kindness at work already know that.  And it usually doesn't take much.  Frequently, it is a small act that connects us to each other and reminds us of our shared humanity.

A Little Old-Fashioned Kindness

"If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough."
― Meister Eckart

It may have been the black-and-white episodes of Leave it to Beaver I watched last night that reminded me of the kindness of the old-fashioned handwritten thank you note. 

While it may seem odd to some, I enjoy handwriting thank you notes.  I have always had a fondness for paper and pens.  I don't write notes as often as I mean to ...  In fact, every new year, one of my few resolutions is to write one note per day.  While that doesn't happen regularly, it makes me happy to go to the post office to mail handwritten notes. 

Especially in this day of instant communication thanks to e-mail and social media, there is something wonderful about the handwritten note.  It takes a little more time than sending a quick e-mail, but I always figure that my writing a note takes significantly less time than it took the person I am thanking to do whatever she did for me.  Using this rationale, I have tried to instill this practice in my children, although my efforts have not been entirely successful.

A few years ago when my uncle died, a friend sent a condolence card.  I sent her a note thanking her for her thoughtfulness and she was surprised.  But I was so touched.  I knew that it had been an effort for this busy mother and attorney to buy the card, write it, find a stamp and get it in the mail.

Leah Dieterich, an LA-based writer and filmmaker, wrote a book titled thx thx thx Thank Goodness for Everything, which is a collection of her handwritten thank you notes.  In her book, she thanks everything from words for letting her make art to the "th" sound for "making Spanish so sweet and vulnerable sounding."

Sadly, 67 percent of adults think that the thank you note has died out, according to a British study done this year.  Apparently, handwriting thank you notes is closely followed by using a dictionary and going to the library as top disappearing activities, thanks to technology.  According to the US Postal Service, the average home received a personal letter only once every seven weeks in 2010, down from once every two weeks in 1987.

But for me, there is something special about this old-fashioned kindness and I will continue to champion its cause.  Maybe it has the allure of June Cleaver in her dresses and pearls. 

The Very Bearable Kindness of Breathing

"Breath is the bridge which connects life to consciousness, which unites your body to your thoughts.  Whenever your mind becomes scattered, use your breath as the means to take hold of your mind again."
―  Thich Nhat Hanh

Years ago, during a very difficult period in my life -- my father was terminally ill with pancreatic cancer, someone I knew would tell me "just breathe."  Her well-intentioned attempts at calming me down had the opposite effect.  I thought her advice preposterous, and it actually angered me.  I didn't get it.  It soundly, frankly, so stupid!  Whenever we received an update of more bad news -- it was not an ulcer but cancer, the cancer had metastasized, time to call hospice, this woman would tell me "just breathe." 

Now, years later and hopefully a little more evolved, I shake my head at the irony of my reaction.  Breathing would have helped me -- a lot.  Through the practice of yoga, I have come to understand and appreciate the kindness and sheer power of breathing.

In yoga and in meditation classes, we are directed to focus on the breath.  For some of us, that focus on the breath to the exclusion of all else is a challenge -- even for a few breaths.  There is the perennial "monkey mind," jumping from worry to worry, running up and down our to-do list, ruminating ...  So busy.  And yet, when we can manage to quiet our monkey minds and meditate, this kindness has lasting impact.  Research shows that a regular practice of controlled breathing can decrease the effects of stress on the body as well as increase physical and mental health.

It is well established that meditation helps us to regulate our emotions and to handle difficult situations.  Research has shown that there are changes to the brain when someone is meditating.  In addition, the results of a Harvard study published in November 2012 indicate that participating in an eight-week meditation training program can have measurable effects on how the brain functions even when the person is not meditating.  The effect of meditation lasts longer than scientists had previously found.

Sylvia Boorstein, a psychotherapist and co-founder of a well-known meditation center in California, has written various books, including Happiness is an Inside Job.  In a section of that book titled Restoring the Mind to Kindness, Boorstein writes that after 30 years of practicing meditation, she considers her practice successful because of one major difference in her life:  "I now trust that even when what is happening to me is difficult and my response to it is painful, I will not suffer if I can keep my mind clear enough to keep my heart engaged."  She does this by telling herself to relax and breathe.

Boorstein says that paying attention to one's breath accomplishes two things:  First, by lengthening the breath, we calm our bodies.  Second, focusing on the breath calms the mind and begins to clear it.  "Even a small amount of clarity reminds the mind it could possibly choose a helpful response," Boorstein writes.  "That awareness provides hope and courage."    

The kindness of breathing calms our bodies and our minds.  So ...  dare I say it?  Just breathe.

The Kindness of Gratitude

"The single greatest thing you can to change your life today would be to start being grateful for what you have right now.  And the more grateful you are, the more you get."
— Oprah

Gratitude may be one of the kindest things that we can do -- for others, for ourselves and for the universe.

More than 16 years ago, Oprah began keeping a gratitude journal, where she writes five things for which she is grateful every day.  She says that beginning to keep a gratitude journal is the single most important thing she has ever done. 

I love the idea of gratitude -- who doesn't?  But as with many ideas, it is sometimes easier in theory than practice.  My yoga teacher lately has been talking about "digging" into gratitude, particularly when we are facing a challenge.  The other day after class, she said, "the fact that we have moved the way we have is enough to fill us with joy."

Not long ago, a friend of mine shared that years ago when she was having trouble appreciating a parent, someone recommended finding three things that the parent had done to show love.  It had a tremendous impact on her.  And, in a ripple effect, on me.  When I find myself having trouble with someone whom I feel I should love, I think about three things that person has done to show me love.  Invariably, the gratitude softens my heart.

Gratitude does many things.  It can help us to slow down and appreciate our surroundings.  It can give us patience with a loved one.  It can give us the sense of wonder that some of us have forgotten to enjoy.  And it can infuse kindness into our daily encounters.

There are so many of life's moments and experiences for which to be grateful -- from the simplicity of a breath or a smile to the love of a dear one or the use of our limbs.  Our bounty is endless and yet we often forget that as we face the challenges that life invariably throws our way.

What if today we find three things for which to be grateful?  And, as with the best of memories, what if we let those little joys fill our hearts with gratitude?

Kindness to Our Bodies

"People think, 'Oh, I'm loving myself by sitting on this sofa for four hours.'  Love yourself enough to get up!"
— Alison Sweeney, host, The Biggest Loser
 

Many of us choose Monday as the day to begin a new habit, especially a health-related one.  So today seems like a good day to tackle a tough question:  Why do so many of us find it hard to be kind to our bodies?

Two-thirds of us in the U.S. are overweight or obese.   A similar percentage of the population is not getting enough sleep.  And while about 50 percent of the population exercises three times a week, only about 20 percent of U.S. adults meet both the aerobic and muscle strengthening components of the federal government's physical activity recommendations, according to a report published by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in May.

Losing weight is not easy, but it is simple -- for most people, it is a matter of what and how much we eat.  I know that I will be on the front lines of the weight battle for the rest of my life, but I have been able to make some progress by realizing that healthier food choices, exercise, sleep and meditation are important ways to be kind to me.

One of my relatives, who could be a poster child for physical fitness, works out every day.  He says that he is kind to his body "so it will be kind to me."  He attributes his professional success in part to being in good shape.  (Studies confirm this.)  And he adds:  "When you push your body and make it do things, that translates into persistence and perseverance at work.  Many mornings I leave the gym at 7:30 with the explicit thought, 'the tough part of the day is over.'  We even tell each other that on the way out of the gym.  Nothing they throw at you that day is going to be tougher than what you just went through."

One of my Kindness Muses in her mid-50s was able to lower her cholesterol by 75 points and avoid taking statins by changing her diet.  She looks terrific and admits to being very intentional about her health.  "If I keep up my healthy eating, work out at least 30 minutes, and get 8 hours of sleep a day, I am able to face almost anything," she shared recently.  "It's when I let any one of those go that I am at risk of not being able to function well -- as in: getting impatient, being in a bad mood, not treating the ones I'm closest to (i.e., my husband) well, and not being able to think straight.  So, absolutely, good nutrition and exercising are essential for being kind to your body."

Why aren't we kind to our bodies?  Having lost some weight in the last couple of years, I remember thinking at the beginning of the journey, "Well, if I lose x amount of weight, I will then treat myself to ..."  And the treats that completed the thought were of the high-calorie, fat-rich variety.  At one point, it dawned on me that it was counter-productive to reward myself for progress with a "treat" that would only move me backward.  And learning about the many benefits of eating colorful vegetables, for example, has increased my enthusiasm and even appetite for them.

 

Maybe if we realize that the "treats" that give us immediate gratification -- the cookie, hanging out on the couch -- do not represent kindness to ourselves, we will begin to take even small steps (literally) toward more healthful and kind behavior.  As kindness toward our body becomes more of a habit, we can grow accustomed to it and relish it.  Kindness to our body and enjoying a healthy lifestyle can become part of who we are.

 

 

 

Kindness ― Widening the Boundaries of Our Being

"Writers who go on spiritual quests put themselves in a position to observe spiritual transactions."
― William Zinsser

Yesterday was Day 36 of the 72 Days of Kindness -- the halfway point of our summer project on kindness.  When I asked my children what they had learned so far, they said:

"That being kind can be fun to do and it helps people."

"Kindness is a good thing to do because it makes you feel better and makes life easier for everybody else."

"That being kind helps people and makes their lives easier.  It makes me happy to see them happy."

I was reflecting on the midpoint of the journey while also reading a book by the brilliant William Zinsser, who inspires me to no end.  Zinsser, now 90, is an American writer, editor, critic and teacher. 

Thanks to Zinsser, I was introduced to a lovely essay by Chilean poet and politician Pablo Neruda.   In Childhood and Poetry, Neruda recounts a childhood exchange of gifts with another young boy, someone he didn't know and never saw again.  He wrote:

I have been a lucky man.  To feel the intimacy of brothers is a marvelous thing in life.  To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.  But to feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know, from those unknown to us, who are watching over our sleep and solitude, over our dangers and our weaknesses, that is something still greater and more beautiful because it widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.

That exchange brought home to me for the first time a precious idea: that all of humanity is somehow together.

As I read those beautiful words by Neruda, I realized that that is what the kindness project has done for our family:  It has widened the "boundaries of our being."  By definition, kindness cannot be practiced in a vacuum.  A kind action must have an object.  Not a solitary activity, kindness connects us to others.

My husband remarked that he has been moved by how the children have been thinking  about "the possibility of kindness."   They have seen the impact of kindness and felt the "good joy" that comes from being kind, as my son said a few weeks ago.  By connecting with others through kindness, our children have thought beyond themselves and widened their worlds. 

For me, both the experience and the writing of it have expanded my boundaries in profound ways.  As with Zinsser's "spiritual quest," this kindness quest has led me to observe and to experience many kindness transactions that unite us.  How truly precious is our being "somehow together."

An Ode to the Kindness of Doctors

"Kindness and a generous spirit go a long way.  And a sense of humor.  It's like medicine - very healing."
— Max Irons

Growing up in a family of physicians, I took for granted excellent medical care and easy access to doctors.  But time has passed as have those members of my family.  And things are different in the era of managed care.

I have had my share of frustration with doctors and their offices -- not being able to talk to a doctor after anxiety-producing test results, three-hour waits ...  But thankfully, those moments are rare given that there are a slew of doctors who are not only top in their fields, but also kind.  During the summer, my children and I make the rounds to several doctors.  Those recent visits have reminded me of and made me especially grateful for the kindness of physicians. 

The kindness of doctors is a special brand of compassion that only they can offer.  While doctors do what they do every day, for patients, going to the doctor represents an important event, anxiety, and sometimes a difficult journey ahead.  When we are nervous about a test, procedure or illness, we are very much in their hands.  And we know that without our health, we truly have nothing.

Older than the Bible, the Hippocratic Oath has changed over the years.  There has been controversy about its various elements and even discussion over whether physicians should take it at all.  But its existence and even the controversy are both testament to the importance of how doctors practice medicine.

This is a special thank you for all the doctors who remember to give kindness along with excellent medical care, for those who remember that their patients are people and not just appointments waiting behind the charts on the examining room doors.

Over the years, I have been blessed to have doctors call me after hours on a Friday with test results, so that I would not worry over the weekend.  I have had doctors give me their cell phone numbers.  I have had doctors reduce my angst with their sense of humor.  And I have had doctors take more time than made economic sense to listen, to really listen to whatever was going on with my family members or me. 

The kindness of doctors is so critical because we are at our most vulnerable when we need them.   Their generosity of spirit can make all the difference.    

 
P.S.  So my post is not a poem and, therefore, not an ode, but in my enthusiasm to thank doctors, I took poetic license.

Kindness in Small Gestures

"Remember there's no such thing as a small act of kindness.  Every act creates a ripple with no logical end."
―  Scott Adams, creator of the Dilbert cartoon strip

The end of yoga class brings the much-anticipated corpse pose or shavasana.  One lies on the floor in a meditative state and just relaxes -- for me, it is the reward after the physical exertion.  As we were going into shavasana this morning, the yoga teacher instructed us to "get comfortable."  She usually encourages us to put on our sweaters or anything warm that we have brought with us.  I had a sweater by my foot, but I didn't make the extra effort of reaching for it.  Maybe I was just too tired.  As I began entering the dreamy shavasana state, I felt my yoga teacher place my sweater over me.  She adjusted one side and then the other, so that it would cover me as best as possible.  I was touched by her small kindness.  It reminded me of tucking a small child or elderly parent into bed ...  A small gesture, but it carries such deep meaning because it says unequivocally that we care for the other person.