“Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love.” – Lao Tzu
One of my takeaways from social psychologist Jonathan Haidt’s recent book The Anxious Generation is that kids need to practice working out their relationships with each other. Negotiating what they want and also how to take care of each other is invaluable experience.
So I try to give my kids a lot of room to relate before stepping in. It feels like I have one ear open for how they talk to each other, especially when it’s at high volume. I hear plenty of statements like: “You can’t do that, it’s not fair.” and “Don’t do that ever again.”
But this week I heard three lines that immediately changed the tenor of the conversation. And the best thing about them? They were not specific to childhood.
Line #1
Six-year-old said, “I wish Miss O wanted to help.”
And she did. But prior to Mr. D saying that, she wasn’t clued in that he needed help.
Line #2
Ten-year-old Miss O said, “Okay, I’m listening.“
The conversation was tense before Miss O said this. Once she said it, they worked out whatever it was they were trying to do.
Writing a going away card for our neighbors that are moving back to England forced me to put words to what makes them so special. When they moved here three years ago and their kids were 5, 7, and 9 years old, what was most noticeable were their charming accents.
But their charm ran a lot deeper than that. They came to Seattle with a spirit of adventure. The dad’s job allows him to work anywhere in the world. I heard the mom describe their decision making process of looking at the whole globe and choosing Seattle. The water, the mountains, the green drew them in.
So luckily they landed in our neighborhood – right on our street! I met the kids when I was helping out with school picture day as I escorted anyone that was new to the school or out sick on regular picture day down to the photographers. In the process I met these three delightful children who were verbosely happy and excited to be here.
But here’s what was so inspiring about them. They weren’t just happy and adventurous people when they landed. They maintained it for the three years they lived here and by doing so they enraptured our whole community.
I’d see them after a break and they’d have taken a road trip down through Oregon, California, Nevada and back up through Utah, Colorado, Wyoming, and Idaho. The mom would joke that they’d rolled in at 11pm the night before school started again so she wasn’t going to win any Best Mum awards for that.
They did things like climbing to Camp Muir on Mt. Rainier, and spending one holiday at a dude ranch. One holiday they went to Las Vegas and let each of the kids pick a show to see for their night. Then they spent the rest of their time exploring the wilderness near Red Rocks.
It was like without the ruts of having lived in the area long enough to know their favorites, they were free to bounce around and try everything. And the same went for friendship. Not knowing anyone meant that they were open to meeting everyone.
The Buddhists and Stoics talk about contemplating our demise as a way to live more fully. It strikes me that my neighbors exemplified an aspect of this. They likely knew they’d return to England at some point so they lived this adventure to the fullest while they were here.
Here’s what I finally landed on for their going away card. This family with their adventurous, happy and authentic hearts was a gift to us and our community. They reminded us how many wonderful places, experiences and people are around when you are willing to look. And because openness translates to any language, a blessing wherever they go.
“Focus more on the people who inspire you rather than annoy. You’ll get much further in life.” – Kristen Butler
This was originally published on another site on 12/13/2023. Heads up – you may have already read this.
I was listening to social scientist and author, Arthur Brooks talk with Oprah on her Super Soul Sunday podcast. He was talking about the human tendency towards negativity bias. His example was something like we go to a lovely holiday dinner and have a great time – except for the 20 minutes when Aunt Polly went on a rant. And what do we remember afterwards? Aunt Polly’s rant.
I suppose I knew this to some degree before but it was gratifying to find out that this isn’t just a me thing. It’s a survival mechanism that helps us identify the sticky spots. Safe to say, it’s a little maladaptive at times in our modern society.
I realized that one of the places that I do this is in writing. I often draft a piece thinking about the naysayers in the audience. After listening to Arthur Brooks, I noodled on this practice. I think writing with critics in mind has some advantages – like developing a fuller view of my position and for motivating my inner editor.
But I can’t type when in a defensive crouch.
Thinking of some of my favorite lines from authors:
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” from Mary Oliver.
“When you beautify your mind, you beautify your world. You learn to see differently. In what seemed like dead situations, secret possibilities and invitations begin to open before you. In old suffering that held you long paralyzed, you find new keys. “ – John O’Donohue
These examples touch me in my bones in a way that makes me know they were written from the expansive space of possibility instead of the small space of fear.
Some of my best words have come when I’m surprised into them – I’ve laughed my way in or come fresh from sleep before my inner critic has arisen. Other times, I find I have to shift my posture – actually stretch or move out of that hunch over the keyboard that I naturally fall into. Anything to open the heart space in the front of my body as a physical reminder to let the words flow from my heart.
Maybe a rant from Aunt Polly is memorable. But the feeling of being touched from the inside out leaves a different kind of mark. One of possibility and inspiration. I’d much prefer the latter.
“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” – Aesop
Recently my daughter, nine-year-old Miss O, and I were at our neighborhood grocery store. When we went through the check out line, Miss O asked the clerk, “How’s your day going?”
The genuine question worked instantly. It was as if a light went on inside the young woman. She answered, “Busy, but in a good way so that the day goes fast.”
Ab tells us the great story of a chance encounter he had with a woman standing next to him and his family in an hour-long line. She led with a query and Ab answered with his trademark humor and openness.
Vicki and I delve into how these encounters can be very different from what we imagine when we genuinely lean into them.
Ab talks about the loneliness epidemic and how the antidote to negative feelings and isolation is connection. While finding your people isn’t always easy, it’s facilitated by having an open-heart.
We explore how sometimes we’re in the prison of our own thoughts and how human connection breaks us out of that loop and facilitates kindness.
This is such a fascinating episode. I love the kinship we have with Ab. And he’s so good at illustrating how community is where kindness and empathy happens. It’s where we have the opportunity to support each other and create deep relationships.
I’m confident you’ll love the scenic and beautiful places we explore as we share the power of storytelling about finding our people.
We know you’ll love it!
Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts OR Listen to it from your computer on Anchor: Episode 95: Finding Our People with Ab
“Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.” – Anne Sexton
My heart absorbs a lot in a day. That is to say that as I traverse my days, bouncing between to-do’s and must have dones, I collect a lot of nuggets that I store away in my heart as if it is a four-chambered storage cabinet.
– The note of trepidation from my kids as they start a new activity.
– An observation about a colleague who appears to be wrestling with anxiety.
– The feeling I shoulder when coming alongside a friend’s worry.
At some point I have to empty my heart storage cabinet so I can carry on and pick up new things, about myself or others. I think that’s why I love this breathing/heart meditation that I originally picked up from Deepak Chopra almost twelve years ago. [With all due respect to Deepak Chopra, this may no longer resemble the meditation as he taught it so please forgive any blips in the flow.]
Sitting with your eyes closed, feel your heart. Notice how it is feeling. Is it heavy? It is happily skipping a beat? Is it calm and serene?
Now take a deep breath into the front of your heart. Feel your chest expand. Feel that front wall where your heart meets the world.
Next breathe into the back of your heart. Allow the solidity and strength of your back to make room for the heart.
Take a deep breath and direct it to the top of the heart. Does it feel like there is a lid on your heart that can crack ajar to give the heart a little room to expand?
Now send your next inhale to the bottom of your heart. Breathe through all that might have settled there and benefit from some air to get moving.
The next breath is for the sides of the heart. As you feel the sides of your heart lengthen with the inhale, sit a little taller to feel your whole ribcage expand.
And finally, breathe into the whole heart. Notice how it is feeling. Is it the same as when you started? Or have you uncovered something tucked away there?
“Everything will be alright in the end, and if it is not alright, it is not the end.” – The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel
Months ago, when I signed Mr. D up for his very first summer camp (rock climbing, in case it matters), I assumed that it would start at the same time as Miss O’s. For his age group 3-5, the camp ends at noon. Miss O’s older group goes until 3pm. But certainly they’d start all the groups at 9am, right?
When I took a closer look before the camp started this week, I discovered Mr. D’s doesn’t start until 9:30am. When I realized that detail, I started inwardly groaning about the inconvenience.
But just briefly. Because in the last dozen years, I adopted a shift that has made an immense difference to my happiness. I started assuming that “it” is for the best. That whatever is irritating me is just an opportunity opening that I can’t yet see. Or that I may never totally understand because it’s above my pay grade.
This has a Biblical basis (Romans 8:28), and a Buddhist basis, but I don’t think it requires a particular spiritual tradition. It’s just an act of staying open to the possibility that there’s a perspective that I can’t yet see.
For anyone that is thinking this sounds Pollyana-ish, I get it. But this change came from the darkest days of my life when I was stuck in all the feelings of failure after my divorce and clueless about what I was going to do next.
It’s easier to do this for things like camp drop-offs. In this case, the payoff came almost instantly. Of course, it was beneficial to have Mr. D’s camp start a half hour later. He got to see his sister get dropped off, and then have some time warming up on his own.
It gets harder when the kids are sick and I have to cancel my hair appointment. Or the babysitter cancels and I can’t go out with my friends.
So, I practice with the small irritations – believing that it’ll be alright in the end. And if it’s not alright, it’s not the end.
“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day, saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’” – Mary Anne Radmacher
A couple of days before Miss O had her field day at school, I mentioned it to her. Much to my surprise she groaned.
“Why that response?” I asked, thinking of past years where she loved all the silly games like the Mustache Dash where you run with a piece of licorice between your lip and nose, and the water balloon toss.
My almost nine-year-old daughter replied, “I don’t like it when I try my best and don’t win. It makes me feel like I’m a loser.”
Oh. All I could think to say in the moment was, “Well, the only way you have a chance of winning is to try.”
But I couldn’t stop thinking about how early we learn that it hurts not to win and the feeling of competition.
I think the trait that has served me the best is my willingness to try. So I find it fascinating to consider all the things that teach us not to try.
To be fair, parenting has also given me insight into the many things I’m not interested in trying. Weird foods, holding insects, and playing with slime come to mind. Even trying comes with some limits. Or wisdom. Whichever way you want to look at it.
Fortunately, the topic of field day came up the next day so I had another shot at handling it. Miss O brought up the topic of practicing. And I concurred that we don’t practice things like potato sack races on a regular enough basis to have any predictable chance that we’ll win.
“Nothing is more painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.” – Mary Shelley
“What are you going to be when you grow up?” must be the most frequent question my young kids are asked. For adults that don’t really know them, it’s a good conversation starter. But I think it also indicates how attached our identities are to our work.
It’s what Vicki Atkinson and I talk about in this week’s episode of the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast. Identity at the unemployment office.
One of the fascinating positions that Vicki has held is as a career counselor at the unemployment office. She gives us a glimpse into how the jobs we do become our identity by telling us the stories of some of the people who she coached.
We talk about how being a helper or a boss manifests even when someone is no longer doing that job.
I love Vicki’s powers of observation and ability to draw thru lines – talents that show up when she writes, tells stories, and in the many professional roles she has played.
Here’s a snippet of the podcast where Vicki tells me about the people she met at the unemployment office (with captions so you don’t even have to have the sound on):
Vicki Atkinson and I are big believers in the power of story – to connect us, to create intergenerational healing, and to make meaning out of the events of our lives. Each episode of our podcast starts with someone telling a story in each episode.
Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts OR Listen to it from your computer on Anchor Episode 72: Smiles from the Unemployment Office
Or subscribe to our YouTube channel to see a video clip of each story: @SharingtheHeartoftheMatter.
“The years teach much which the days never know.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Miss O has been working on “time” problems in school. Like “It’s 12:40. Zach is supposed to meet his friend in 45 minutes. What time will it be when they meet?” She generally likes math but these problems are getting her goat at the moment.
So, we were settling into bed and she asked me, “Was time around when you were a kid?” Then she thought for a moment and continued, “Oh yeah, they’ve had it for a while.”
I couldn’t get out of the room fast enough to burst into laughter and write that one down. That she said this the night before my birthday wasn’t lost on me.
Hee, hee. Yes, they’ve had time long enough for me to count out 55 years. What else has the fullness of time given me?
Laughter
When we had a small party of family and friends to celebrate my birthday, as well as my mom’s and my friend Eric’s, the thing I enjoyed most was the laughter. Miss O and Mr. D put on a recital. There was great food and also presents, but the real gift was the just the lightness of being. Miss O asked why my eyes leak so frequently when I laugh. I don’t know exactly, but it has something to do with just being so happy to be here.
Perspective
Time has also given me the gift of perspective. It’s a bigger sea in which my hurts, my worries, and even my hopes feel less significant. They matter, but more as in a way that helps me set my sails instead of being the sea itself. I’m a far more patient person – but not because I’ve grown my patience but because the fullness of time helps me settle into the wait.
Heart
I have a favorite quote when it comes to the heart,
“God breaks the heart again and again and again until it stays open.”
-Hazrat Inayat Khan
When I first met that quote, it was like almost everything else that has become my teacher. I thought, “No, no, no.”
But time has shown it is less about heart break and more about giving up control. There are people, things, dreams, and abilities that hurt so much when they go. But the heart has no hands to hang on to them. Leaning into that is like opening windows in my heart so that the breeze can flow through.
So, has anyone figured out the answer to the time problem at the top of the post? Clearly, it’s “Who knows because Zach is always running late? But we’ll hug him when we see him.” 🙂 Or at least that’s the answer that the fullness of time has given me.
“The one thing that you have that nobody else has is you. Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision. So, write and draw and build and play and dance and live only as you can.” – Neil Gaiman
Three stories that have come up recently in my house…
#1
Four-year-old Mr. D loves telling the story about the parking ticket I recently got outside my mom’s apartment. Even though I have the pay-to-park app on my phone, I choose not to pay thinking we’d only be inside for 15 minutes. It’s a story I’d rather not think about given that I ended up paying $43 instead of the $2, but I have to admit, he’s told it so many times that it’s starting to get funny.
#2
The other day, Mr. D wanted to wear shoes with laces and put them on himself. He got them on and then tied about 10 overhand knots as we drove to school. I heard him in the back seat say, “Yeah, that looks good.”
#3
We bought a small red velvet cake at the grocery store recently. When eight-year-old Miss O had a slice of it, she pushed all the cream cheese frosting to the side. I asked if she didn’t care for it. When she said she didn’t, I swiped up a finger full. “Ugh,” she groaned and then added, “Sorry, didn’t mean to ‘yuck’ your ‘yum.’”
The Point
One of the things that I aim for in my house, is that we can express ourselves without judgment. That is, I want to be the place where the kids can tell their stories without worrying how they land.
The funny thing is that it’s had a bonus effect on me where I have to get to talk about the bonehead mistakes I make (like the parking ticket.) I’ve found it’s helped greatly to learn to not let my inner editor curate only the stories I want to talk about.
The Bonus
When I talk with my dear friend and podcast partner, Vicki, I get the boost of knowing she is a really safe person to tell stories to. Not that I always communicate well the first time, but she is such a good and encouraging listener, she brings out the vulnerable and brave me.
I know I’m not alone in being surprised sometimes by how a story is received. We tell about an experience to a person or persons and then are shocked at how it lands. We thought it was funny and they thought it stupid. We thought it was deep and they only appreciate the surface. Whatever it is, it is out of our control for better or worse.
When our inner editor starts curating the content we share, we sometimes short-circuit our ability to be fully seen. So Vicki and I talk about the healing effect of telling our stories, no matter how they land.
Here’s a snippet of the podcast where I tell Vicki about a recent exchange of stories with a long-time friend (6 minutes with subtitles so you don’t have to have the sound on):
Vicki Atkinson and I are big believers in the power of story – to connect us, to create intergenerational healing, and to make meaning out of the events of our lives. Each episode of our podcast starts with someone telling a story in each episode.
Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts OR Listen to it from your computer on Anchor Episode 71: Catching an Edge with Wynne and Vicki
Or subscribe to our YouTube channel to see a video clip of each story: @SharingtheHeartoftheMatter.
Surprised By Joy 