The kindness question
Continuing choleric Facebook posts in my feed are countered by requests for kindness and respect. I also am exhorted on most blogs written by women to "be kind", over and over. But when I think of real persons, not the pseudonym-protected snipers online, I see much kindness, or at least civility, in everyday life.
So why, I wonder, am I so often importuned to be kind? Perhaps because its opposite, meanness, is disruptive, painful, and when escalated, violent.
Kindness is a fragrant bough that sweeps away the pebbles on the path of life. Alain de Botton's site The School of Life calls kindness an art, and provides a primer, "Mastering the Art of Kindness".
I am glad to find this free book, because I need help these days, what with those Facebook feuds and my suspicion that when some of those parties tell those who see it differently to "be kind" , they may be trying to stifle protest, to duck the hard and complicated questions. "You're not nice!" is calling someone a "nasty woman" with sugar on top.
Somewhere, I realize, is a balance point as tenuously glued together as President Trump's hair. (Yes, I am being mean. Sometimes snark, which is diet-lite meanness, is fun.)
What's missing in these pleas for kindness is an examination of why we continually request caring and consideration. We need it. Kindness helps us muster on, because it contributes to our safety and security.
Whether one adopts Maslow's hierarchy of needs—which places physical and emotional safety just after the physiological needs like air, water, and food—or other models, humans can govern themselves better when they are not in a continual fight or flight mode.
We appreciate meetings were differences are discussed without ad hominum attacks, we're grateful when a friend readily forgives us for forgetting a date, we enjoy even the passing generosity of a held door. Kindness serves life.
My friend Marianne is an intelligent, compassionate, warm woman. Seven years ago, she worked for a practiced bully who systematically undermined her work, despite her efforts to appease, problem-solve, and even confront his tactics. Because of her beliefs and her nature, she never fought fire with fire. Eventually he succeeded in having her fired; she spent from 2009 until last year struggling to get back on her feet.
During that time, Marianne lost her life savings and was often depressed, but received many kind acts. One of her friends moved her into her empty basement apartment in her home. Other friends provided low-key kindnesses: including her in social events that cost nothing, taking her out occasionally, giving her good clothes so she could go on interviews, and just keeping an eye on her. Even her bank was kind, helping her hang on to a family property that provided a tiny income from its occasional rental.
It's easy to be kind to a person like Marianne, and much harder to be kind to someone acting like a jerk, including ourselves. Sometimes the best we manage is a clenched civility.
In me, the milk of human kindness dilutes down to skim on a bad day. I prize the virtue, and wish to be thoughtful, generous, tolerant. Lately despair about the state of the world and our vulnerability can erode my stores. Then I hoover down a slab of endangered fish (when Le Duc is not around) and snap at someone I love. (I am hardly ever mean to strangers, but being kind to some persons whom I know well has taken deep effort, and I've often fallen short.)
When I attend the services of various faith communities, the promotion of everyday kindness is a universal topic—but, presently on leave from such affiliation, I'm hoping the School of Life provides guidance.
The beginning of the treatise quotes findings from a survey attributed to DoubleTree by Hilton, and I wondered, What is a hotel chain doing exploring kindness? But there is money to be made in delivering a nice plump bed, a kindness that earns customers' loyalty. A good hotel or restaurant (not necessarily a luxury one) cossets you; hospitality is really institutionalized kindness.
There's more to say, but what about you, friend? Is kindness important to you? How do you top up your capacity?
So why, I wonder, am I so often importuned to be kind? Perhaps because its opposite, meanness, is disruptive, painful, and when escalated, violent.
Kindness is a fragrant bough that sweeps away the pebbles on the path of life. Alain de Botton's site The School of Life calls kindness an art, and provides a primer, "Mastering the Art of Kindness".
I am glad to find this free book, because I need help these days, what with those Facebook feuds and my suspicion that when some of those parties tell those who see it differently to "be kind" , they may be trying to stifle protest, to duck the hard and complicated questions. "You're not nice!" is calling someone a "nasty woman" with sugar on top.
Somewhere, I realize, is a balance point as tenuously glued together as President Trump's hair. (Yes, I am being mean. Sometimes snark, which is diet-lite meanness, is fun.)
What's missing in these pleas for kindness is an examination of why we continually request caring and consideration. We need it. Kindness helps us muster on, because it contributes to our safety and security.
Whether one adopts Maslow's hierarchy of needs—which places physical and emotional safety just after the physiological needs like air, water, and food—or other models, humans can govern themselves better when they are not in a continual fight or flight mode.
We appreciate meetings were differences are discussed without ad hominum attacks, we're grateful when a friend readily forgives us for forgetting a date, we enjoy even the passing generosity of a held door. Kindness serves life.
My friend Marianne is an intelligent, compassionate, warm woman. Seven years ago, she worked for a practiced bully who systematically undermined her work, despite her efforts to appease, problem-solve, and even confront his tactics. Because of her beliefs and her nature, she never fought fire with fire. Eventually he succeeded in having her fired; she spent from 2009 until last year struggling to get back on her feet.
During that time, Marianne lost her life savings and was often depressed, but received many kind acts. One of her friends moved her into her empty basement apartment in her home. Other friends provided low-key kindnesses: including her in social events that cost nothing, taking her out occasionally, giving her good clothes so she could go on interviews, and just keeping an eye on her. Even her bank was kind, helping her hang on to a family property that provided a tiny income from its occasional rental.
It's easy to be kind to a person like Marianne, and much harder to be kind to someone acting like a jerk, including ourselves. Sometimes the best we manage is a clenched civility.
In me, the milk of human kindness dilutes down to skim on a bad day. I prize the virtue, and wish to be thoughtful, generous, tolerant. Lately despair about the state of the world and our vulnerability can erode my stores. Then I hoover down a slab of endangered fish (when Le Duc is not around) and snap at someone I love. (I am hardly ever mean to strangers, but being kind to some persons whom I know well has taken deep effort, and I've often fallen short.)
When I attend the services of various faith communities, the promotion of everyday kindness is a universal topic—but, presently on leave from such affiliation, I'm hoping the School of Life provides guidance.
The beginning of the treatise quotes findings from a survey attributed to DoubleTree by Hilton, and I wondered, What is a hotel chain doing exploring kindness? But there is money to be made in delivering a nice plump bed, a kindness that earns customers' loyalty. A good hotel or restaurant (not necessarily a luxury one) cossets you; hospitality is really institutionalized kindness.
There's more to say, but what about you, friend? Is kindness important to you? How do you top up your capacity?
Comments
So thank you, as always, dearest Duchesse, for sharing your thoughts, your intelligence, your insights, and your sincere personal generosity and kindness with strangers and "digital" friends. I respect you and love you for it.
Janice
always mindful to "pay it forward". What goes around, comes around.
Lizer Pearl
I think I am kinder than I used to be, not as judgmental. Age has taught me some things, thank goodness. I also think I'm kinder to myself, more forgiving. Topping up my capacity? I find certain patterns of behaviour wear me down and I've learned to recognize them and avoid those people. It's easier to be kind when someone isn't exasperating you for the umpteenth time:-)
As always you've provided much food for thought in the days to come.
Globally, we must continue to support those countries who require help with healthcare and education. This aid is also in the interest of our own safety and security. Personally, I find that communities of faith remind me to try to be kind on a daily basis and also allow me to acknowledge and accept that it is far more challenging to be kind and tolerant to those who are close to me.
Thank you for presenting such a thoughtful post.
I am sorry your friend was bullied by an employer. That's the pits. Regrettably, we don't always get to make friends at work.--Louise
I had a real lesson in kindness yesterday as I had some knee surgery. A friend drove me o the hospital - stayed - and then drove me home and looked after me last night. Another friend is arriving later this morning to help me out for the next couple of days and the staff at Women's College Hospital could not have been more professional, and yes, very, very kind every step of the way. And it was very much appreciated.
I am going to try and take this more to heart as no matter how old, how rich, how important or insignificant we may be (or think we are) a simple act of kindness goes a long way to get us through the day.
Thank you for yet another thoughtful post.
Perhaps when children are taught to "be nice", we do not yet trust that they can navigate the moral issues behind kindness, so we ask them to behave in ways that reflect kindness and consideration, before they can understand the concept. We ask them to share, to say please-and-thank-you, to do other civil acts, before they receive more mature instruction in morality and ethics.
All: Other matters mean I can't respond to each comment as I would like, but I have read them and am thinking about your points and experiences.
Now I'm older, I value kindness so much more.
(I don't think I'd have been "nice" in the '70s to preserve the status quo. Looking back, I could have been kinder more often.)
Today, I see how members of my family are so kind. I appreciate them so much...and I value my "intellect" less these days. To me, the measure of a person is when they can be kind...