I've mentioned before the rare gift it is to find kindness in a stranger, but, I think it's important that we never take for granted the kindness that comes from those who consider us friends and families.
A dear friend of mine recently moved to the Ukraine. I've relayed this to my relevant connections who hear about my life with regularity. During those exchanges, my very good friends ask how I'm coping or if I'm well or how my friend is faring overseas.
It was my pen pal who, without the precedent of a conversation or question, other than just knowing what had happened, sent me a card yesterday. Though we make time to write back and forth at least two letters per month, she is very busy with school, her six year old, and her new job as school librarian. Nonetheless, during her daughter's piano lesson, she took the time to pick out a card (a card disgustingly appropriate for me with a tea pot on the front and two dainty cups and saucers) and write me a note. She was thinking of me. Feeling the pain with me. Hoping the best for me and wanted to take the time to let me know that moment.
The idea of not taking people we know for granted comes from the Obvious Truths as well as an experience I had this summer...
My step-father has very good friends that have known me and my half brothers all our lives. For all the things they do for us, I've handwritten Thank You notes for Years. Once, when my step-father's load at work was particularly hellish and overwhelming, his friend took time out of his weekend to help my Daddy. I was so touched by his friendship and loyalty to my step-father (I mean, the man has a day job of his own that is taxing enough) that I wrote him a letter thanking him for that as well.
So, here we were, my brothers and I all graduating at the same time (I from W&M and they from high school) and these friends of my step-father hosted an intimate cake and coffee evening for us. Gifts were distributed so, as I always do, I sat down that evening and hand wrote my Thank You.
My brothers, for the first time apparently, did the same thing. After all the years I've been expressing my gratitude, they've not once acknowledged me the way that they acknowledged my brothers. The gentleman friend wrote them a letter thanking them for the notes that THEY wrote completely leaving me out.
When I expressed my hurt to my mother, she understood. When she was younger, she had a special "thing" with her younger brother. She had a bicycle with a basket on the front and, when he was still small, she used to ride around with him in the basket. One day, her sister did the same thing. It was only the one time, and her parents finally acknowledged how cute it all was and took a photo. Not a single photo exists of my mother and her brother... when it was their "thing."
So, I think it's crucial and makes us better people to acknowledge the good, even if it's a consistent and not unexpected good, from those we love and who take the time to love us, too. Take no one who loves you for granted.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Marichi
All I know is her name... and I've only met her once before talking to her today.
When I first met her, we walked out of a hot yoga class together. The room is heated above 100 degrees, so, most of us are a sweaty mess coming out. You feel a little self-conscious, obviously, so I wasn't in the perfect mood to chat. She just smiled and made it easier to talk. After a month of other emotional oppositions, my upcoming marriage came up in conversation.
The smile, which was warm initially, broadened ever so slightly and brightened the room. "I am so happy for you," the lovely stranger told me.
I felt something new on the way home. It was a precious thing to meet such unnecessary kindness and she re-entered my mind periodically over the next week.
Is that enough to justify what happened today? I feel as though I must have known her in another life.
Tuesday mornings are Restorative Yoga days. This sort of yoga focuses undoing the work you've done during the week, during other harsher yoga routines, etc. More props are used to support the body so that each pose is relaxing. We also try to meditate and practice deep breathing. While all of that sounds like a nice but boring hour and a half vacation, it brings out, just like harsh yoga, all the weaknesses, sorrows, and inner thoughts up to the surface.
I felt the need to wait after class for her. She usually stays in the room a few minutes more after class to meditate in silence.
"How are you?" I asked her this as genuinely as I would my mother, my best friend, my fiancé. I know it's usually just a greeting with people you do not know, but I truly wanted to know.
She nodded quietly, the smile had changed. "It's been okay."
"How was the weekend?" I knew she had started her yoga teacher certification training that past weekend.
"It was good," she said affirmatively.
"...and your week?"
She just looked me straight in the eye.
"Less good I guess?"
"My grandmother died." Her eyes began to well up.
The stranger part is, my eyes began to tear up as well. I don't even know her, and I started to cry with her. I gave her a real, steady hug... something, as my loved ones know, I rarely offer. We talked for a few minutes about the strength of the soul and the delicate fabric of the body... and our gratitude for our yoga practice to move us through the healing of all our wounds.
There are these random, beautiful experiences where one connects to a perfect stranger... someone who owes you nothing but chooses to offer friendship and kindness. It's a blessing that occurs in a split second because of the years of strength it took to develop a heart, character, and sweetness.
Namasté and Blessed Be.
When I first met her, we walked out of a hot yoga class together. The room is heated above 100 degrees, so, most of us are a sweaty mess coming out. You feel a little self-conscious, obviously, so I wasn't in the perfect mood to chat. She just smiled and made it easier to talk. After a month of other emotional oppositions, my upcoming marriage came up in conversation.
The smile, which was warm initially, broadened ever so slightly and brightened the room. "I am so happy for you," the lovely stranger told me.
I felt something new on the way home. It was a precious thing to meet such unnecessary kindness and she re-entered my mind periodically over the next week.
Is that enough to justify what happened today? I feel as though I must have known her in another life.
Tuesday mornings are Restorative Yoga days. This sort of yoga focuses undoing the work you've done during the week, during other harsher yoga routines, etc. More props are used to support the body so that each pose is relaxing. We also try to meditate and practice deep breathing. While all of that sounds like a nice but boring hour and a half vacation, it brings out, just like harsh yoga, all the weaknesses, sorrows, and inner thoughts up to the surface.
I felt the need to wait after class for her. She usually stays in the room a few minutes more after class to meditate in silence.
"How are you?" I asked her this as genuinely as I would my mother, my best friend, my fiancé. I know it's usually just a greeting with people you do not know, but I truly wanted to know.
She nodded quietly, the smile had changed. "It's been okay."
"How was the weekend?" I knew she had started her yoga teacher certification training that past weekend.
"It was good," she said affirmatively.
"...and your week?"
She just looked me straight in the eye.
"Less good I guess?"
"My grandmother died." Her eyes began to well up.
The stranger part is, my eyes began to tear up as well. I don't even know her, and I started to cry with her. I gave her a real, steady hug... something, as my loved ones know, I rarely offer. We talked for a few minutes about the strength of the soul and the delicate fabric of the body... and our gratitude for our yoga practice to move us through the healing of all our wounds.
There are these random, beautiful experiences where one connects to a perfect stranger... someone who owes you nothing but chooses to offer friendship and kindness. It's a blessing that occurs in a split second because of the years of strength it took to develop a heart, character, and sweetness.
Namasté and Blessed Be.
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