My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.
Dalai Lama
Weddings, like funerals, are a great window into what matters in life. Last weekend in a sun-dappled courtyard in Florida for the wedding of my friends Joe and Susan, I was a little startled to feel a deep joy, one I haven’t always felt at weddings, a joy based on my conviction that Joe and Susan fit together and have opened up exciting new possibilities in life for each other. Their genuine happiness radiated out in all directions, and I say that not because I was drinking; I refrained from even a sip of Champagne.
In California we urge strangers to “Have a great day!” and it can come across as empty words. Joe puts New York intensity into smiling at people and demanding that they have a great day. It can seem almost comical, but having gotten to know Joe, I understand how much of himself he puts into these moments; it’s his way of working past heartbreak.
Like so many of us, Joe works hard. During his first marriage, he was often absent when his kids were growing up, always off at work. Joe’s son Chris grew up dealing with anorexia and later fell into a drug habit that left him dead before his 40th birthday. If you ask Joe about Chris now, tears will come to his eyes. He blames himself for not being there for him. But Joe tries to turn the pain into a positive, and urges others not to make the mistakes he made: Be there for the ones you love, he urges, and make a true commitment to reaching out to people throughout the day and trying to make their day a little better.
Standing under the gently swaying palms at Joe and Susan’s wedding, an insight clicked into focus for me: The key is not what you say, it’s that you say it, and how you say it. The key is stopping the runaway-train impatience of our too-full, too-annoyed, too-stressed journey through our days, stopping that train dead in its tracks, to be where you are, fully, 100 percent, and share a moment with someone. It’s being yourself, sharing your heart, that can offer another person a little lift and put a smile on their face.
I’m not much for eating at chains, but IHOP seemed a better option in Florida than airport food. Looking up from my menu, I saw my waitress, Geneva, a few booths down, flashing a big, beaming grin at two other diners, a young fashionably disheveled couple with the look of extras on a reality-TV show. The couple and Geneva were sharing a private joke, their shoulders hunched in laughter.
“It looks like you enjoy your work,” I commented to Geneva when she came over.
“I do,” she said, a woman comfortable in her own skin. “I love getting a chance to get to know new people.”
She gave me such a long, slow, easy smile, it made me think of my friend Meng, who talks about what he calls “walking meditation,” an idea I’ve shared with others. Why not take that a step beyond to think of “walking mindfulness.” It’s not enough to turn off the cell phone, and to tune out the nonsense on the TV. We have to tune into each other as well.
I think we need to challenge ourselves – and each other – to slow down, to pull ourselves back from the conveyor-belt mentality of never being able to feel the moment – and to try to share those slowed-down moments with others in a way that is open and, yes, kind. Sometimes what’s called for is a kind deed: You see a stranger struggling with an armful of shopping bags so you cross a street to go hold open a door for that stranger. You see someone looking lost on the street and see if you can help them find their orientation. Or you ask them some real questions. You take an interest in the kids on your block in Brooklyn, inviting them over for water-balloon flights, tutoring them in school, or sometimes just plain playing with them.
These moments aren’t about checking the box, fulfilling some idea of ourselves we have, and basking very briefly in a thin film of self-congratulation. No, these moments are opportunities: If we can drop away distraction, pointless worry, and simply BE in these moments, and be there for another person, all just for the sake of leaning into the truth of that moment, then we are on our way to a better way of living. In what I assume is an accident of language, in German “kind” means “child.” To be kind, in our sense, is not so far from being “ein Kind,” a child, seeing the world through unjaundiced eyes, natural and open and fearless.
So dare to be a child. Dare to be natural. Go out today and put yourself more into the moment, helping or smiling at or talking to a stranger or someone you barely know. Do it not for them but for yourself. Come back here and tell us about the experience in the comments section – and if you want to reach out to others with these words, pass the link on. Small changes can mean a lot. A stranger’s smile can light up a day. Geneva the IHOP waitress knows that. So does my friend Joe. That’s why they both go through their days smiling at the crazy wonder of life. I’d rather be with them. Wouldn’t you?
– Steve Kettmann, co-founder, WCR
Steve’s earlier blogs: