Because Kindness Matters

[Free Being Me]

The Oxford dictionary defines kindness as the quality of being friendly, generous, and considerate. The purpose of this thread is to indulge in kindness with each other, talk about the value of kindness, how it impacts our lives and the lives of others with some laughter and sharing along the way. Take seat, relax, and let's enjoy.

Namaste.

 

[Free Being Me]

 

[Free Being Me]

A Simple Act Of Kindness by David Harris

A simple act of kindness
can stop a million tears.
A little hug
can give so much joy.
A letter now and then to someone
can save so many wasted years.
We should hold every moment precious
and help as many as we can
with a simple act of kindness
every now and then.
The world would be a better place
if we all cared a little more.
Imagine how many smiling faces
would greet us at the door
if we extended that helping hand
with a simple act of kindness
that could spread across many lands.

 

[Free Being Me]

Why Kindness Matters
By
John Sweeney
(TED Talks)
[video=youtube;igCjBFTTiNI]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igCjBFTTiNI[/video]​

 

[Glenda]

Kindness changed my life, in ways I continue to discover.

I can’t find a way to write this in a “short, limited internet attention-span” way so for those that only like a couple of short sentences, hit scroll.

I never got on with my mother. Long story, cut short, we were polarised right from the start. If there are only "100 things about life", we disagreed on more than 90 of them. On a really bad day, we disagreed about everything.

Forty-nine years into the messy dance we'd been performing, I returned to my family home, broken. I slowly began to discover a kind woman. My mother. She was elderly by that time. I thought I'd screwed it up with her, without hope of ever sorting it all out. It seemed so complicated.

I sort of forced myself to "act" kind to her. I tried my best to be patient with her. It wasn't natural for me. Too many years doing stuff that had required me to be "tough, like a tiger". Too many years chasing stupid stuff. She saw past my bullshit and kept trying to gently get me to feel her love and kindness.

She would gently remind me of how I had been as a girl. She told me about me. I resented it. The dance between us got even fiercer. I wanted to run away from her again but how could I? She was so elderly. And alone. And so I stayed and forced myself to be kind. It wasn't easy. I sometimes talk about “pattern-breaking” – OMG this one was a major battle. Run-stay-run-stay-run…oh to hell with it. I stayed.

I reluctantly stayed in her life and did stuff with her that she liked to do. Like going for drives. Like wandering around shops and touching stuff (she was partially blind). I was her “eyes” and would read out endless info from price labels and so forth. We’d spend far too long (for my impatient liking) in the supermarket, talking to people she knew, and finding good bargains. We’d drink a cup of tea sitting in the car, in the rain, beside the beach.

I found things she liked to do and we did them. It was simple. And then she started telling me about all the dreams she'd had. And about dad. And about my ancestors (her people, my people). And about all sorts of stuff I’d never known. And we began moving towards being peaceful together. It is the deepest peace I've ever known. I discovered a woman I'd never known. My mother. I let her into my heart, I told her about me, where I had been in life, what had really happened. The true story, not the watered down fluffy minimalist version.

One day, in her last weeks - before she could no longer speak - she took my hand in her frail hands and said "thank you for all your kindness Glenda". I swallowed down the powerful lump in my throat and quietly said "you're welcome mum. I hope it was enough."

I can't share what she then said. I just can't. It will remain forever between us, but it changed just about everything. I never knew this woman was so utterly kind and loving because my heart had been closed to feeling it. She, with her imperfect perfect ways, had always said "kindness matters, Glenda, kindness matters". I had never listened. When I walked kindness with her, really walked it, swallowed down my impatient head-full of God-only-knows-what, I started to feel things, see things, about life, about connection, about belonging, about what matters in life.

After mum died, I was the “child” that mostly took care of all her possessions/estate. As part of that I donated a lot of knitting wool, and fabrics, to folk that made stuff for victims (children in particular) of crime, and children from poverty. It was the kind thing to do and I knew mum would like that. Her legacy partly lives on in warm hats and blankets for children and in various other practical ways. As I went through that process I met people that had known mum. Strangers to me but folk that had been in mum’s wider circle. These people told me “stories of kindness” of things mum had done. A doll for a girl who came from a poor family. Sharing her lunch with a couple of young men she worked with, when they had no lunch money or lunch. Things like that.

Mum didn’t just say “kindness matters”, she lived it. She wasn’t famous, or full of clever words. She quietly gave her kindness to the world wherever and whenever she could. I discovered all this about my mother in our short time together and after she had died. Kindness isn’t weak or wish-washy. It is sometimes so hard to be kind, when things are all cloudy and complicated. It takes courage to be kind when the world can be cold and cruel. She was kind, even when others were cruel. She did her best to be kind even when others pushed her away (me) over and over. She was even kind about my two siblings that hurt her so badly by shunning her (disconnection in cult speak). That took pure guts on her part. The guts to put aside her deep pain and just love them and think kindly of them. She quietly asked me to try to do the same after she was gone. And I am, it’s not easy, but I am.

This is for you mum. Kindness matters. It heals. It brings a smile. It brings peace. And God only knows, this world truly needs more peace, love & kindness.

 

[Free Being Me]

Kindness changed my life, in ways I continue to discover.

I can’t find a way to write this in a “short, limited internet attention-span” way so for those that only like a couple of short sentences, hit scroll.

I never got on with my mother. Long story, cut short, we were polarised right from the start. If there are only "100 things about life", we disagreed on more than 90 of them. On a really bad day, we disagreed about everything.

Forty-nine years into the messy dance we'd been performing, I returned to my family home, broken. I slowly began to discover a kind woman. My mother. She was elderly by that time. I thought I'd screwed it up with her, without hope of ever sorting it all out. It seemed so complicated.

I sort of forced myself to "act" kind to her. I tried my best to be patient with her. It wasn't natural for me. Too many years doing stuff that had required me to be "tough, like a tiger". Too many years chasing stupid stuff. She saw past my bullshit and kept trying to gently get me to feel her love and kindness.

She would gently remind me of how I had been as a girl. She told me about me. I resented it. The dance between us got even fiercer. I wanted to run away from her again but how could I? She was so elderly. And alone. And so I stayed and forced myself to be kind. It wasn't easy. I sometimes talk about “pattern-breaking” – OMG this one was a major battle. Run-stay-run-stay-run…oh to hell with it. I stayed.

I reluctantly stayed in her life and did stuff with her that she liked to do. Like going for drives. Like wandering around shops and touching stuff (she was partially blind). I was her “eyes” and would read out endless info from price labels and so forth. We’d spend far too long (for my impatient liking) in the supermarket, talking to people she knew, and finding good bargains. We’d drink a cup of tea sitting in the car, in the rain, beside the beach.

I found things she liked to do and we did them. It was simple. And then she started telling me about all the dreams she'd had. And about dad. And about my ancestors (her people, my people). And about all sorts of stuff I’d never known. And we began moving towards being peaceful together. It is the deepest peace I've ever known. I discovered a woman I'd never known. My mother. I let her into my heart, I told her about me, where I had been in life, what had really happened. The true story, not the watered down fluffy minimalist version.

One day, in her last weeks - before she could no longer speak - she took my hand in her frail hands and said "thank you for all your kindness Glenda". I swallowed down the powerful lump in my throat and quietly said "you're welcome mum. I hope it was enough."

I can't share what she then said. I just can't. It will remain forever between us, but it changed just about everything. I never knew this woman was so utterly kind and loving because my heart had been closed to feeling it. She, with her imperfect perfect ways, had always said "kindness matters, Glenda, kindness matters". I had never listened. When I walked kindness with her, really walked it, swallowed down my impatient head-full of God-only-knows-what, I started to feel things, see things, about life, about connection, about belonging, about what matters in life.

After mum died, I was the “child” that mostly took care of all her possessions/estate. As part of that I donated a lot of knitting wool, and fabrics, to folk that made stuff for victims (children in particular) of crime, and children from poverty. It was the kind thing to do and I knew mum would like that. Her legacy partly lives on in warm hats and blankets for children and in various other practical ways. As I went through that process I met people that had known mum. Strangers to me but folk that had been in mum’s wider circle. These people told me “stories of kindness” of things mum had done. A doll for a girl who came from a poor family. Sharing her lunch with a couple of young men she worked with, when they had no lunch money or lunch. Things like that.

Mum didn’t just say “kindness matters”, she lived it. She wasn’t famous, or full of clever words. She quietly gave her kindness to the world wherever and whenever she could. I discovered all this about my mother in our short time together and after she had died. Kindness isn’t weak or wish-washy. It is sometimes so hard to be kind, when things are all cloudy and complicated. It takes courage to be kind when the world can be cold and cruel. She was kind, even when others were cruel. She did her best to be kind even when others pushed her away (me) over and over. She was even kind about my two siblings that hurt her so badly by shunning her (disconnection in cult speak). That took pure guts on her part. The guts to put aside her deep pain and just love them and think kindly of them. She quietly asked me to try to do the same after she was gone. And I am, it’s not easy, but I am.

This is for you mum. Kindness matters. It heals. It brings a smile. It brings peace. And God only knows, this world truly needs more peace, love & kindness.

Your post is beautiful, Glenda. As you know, I had the honor of meeting your Mum on Skype for Mothers Day some time ago. She was sweet and kind, had lovely stories to share while you cooked a wonderful Mothers Day dinner for her. I'm so happy for you connecting with your Mum, really connecting before she passed. I think she was happy too just as you are now. Kindness like a small stone tossed into the middle of a pond, sends out its ripples touching everyone.

 

[Free Being Me]

 

[Glenda]

I know this boy. He is four years old. He is a trauma victim and has a chaotic attachment style (look it up if you don't know what a person with chaotic attachment is like).

He's aggressive, I mean he hits people aggressive. He throws things at people in anger. He uses language that challenges and provokes. He'll hurl at you "fuck you! Suck my cock!" The first time he said this to me, I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cry. The "curious" me wanted to dive in and ask him where he learned to talk like that. The realist in me already knew.

Strong boundaries, accentuating the positive - and kindness - are slowly working. Sort of. I'm not backing down, he's not either. I'm staying fiercely kind, consistently kind. He is moving closer and closer. We're having some magic moments which involve the seedlings of trust. We're in negotiation for some terrific dialogue. He's started asking me questions. Whoa. Connection.

Tomorrow we are going to the big pools. Today he asked me if I had seen the "really cool water fountain slide thing" (his words) at the big pools. I haven't. He's offered to show me this small wonder of his world. It is his way of being kind to me. It may seem like nothing, some sort of meaningless moment described via a keyboard and posted onto a message board. But to him, to me, it's going to be a very special moment of connection. An act of kindness.

We are in a dance with his chaos, his triggering, his inability to safely connect to others, to himself, to life - and any kindness I (& others) can get him to sense and mirror back. It matters. The fierce consistent kindness, along with the serious boundaries, is slowing the chaotic mess down.

Recently I saw the "authentic boy". OMG he is magnificent. Articulate, sweet, caring and smart. I had to suppress my tears of joy that he had let his guard down with me. It's a very big deal when you are him. Respect can grow when kindness exists. Kindness brings connection, genuine authentic beautiful connection. It heals. Each tiny moment of healing for this boy matters. Enough tiny moments of trust and authentic connection may make a big difference as he gets older. None of us can predict what his future holds. I won’t indulge in such, possibly, dire thoughts.

For now, we work with strong boundaries and true kindness. And I get a boy to show me the really cool water fountain slide thing. I'm looking forward to it.

 

[Free Being Me]

I know this boy. He is four years old. He is a trauma victim and has a chaotic attachment style (look it up if you don't know what a person with chaotic attachment is like).

He's aggressive, I mean he hits people aggressive. He throws things at people in anger. He uses language that challenges and provokes. He'll hurl at you "fuck you! Suck my cock!" The first time he said this to me, I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cry. The "curious" me wanted to dive in and ask him where he learned to talk like that. The realist in me already knew.

Strong boundaries, accentuating the positive - and kindness - are slowly working. Sort of. I'm not backing down, he's not either. I'm staying fiercely kind, consistently kind. He is moving closer and closer. We're having some magic moments which involve the seedlings of trust. We're in negotiation for some terrific dialogue. He's started asking me questions. Whoa. Connection.

Tomorrow we are going to the big pools. Today he asked me if I had seen the "really cool water fountain slide thing" (his words) at the big pools. I haven't. He's offered to show me this small wonder of his world. It is his way of being kind to me. It may seem like nothing, some sort of meaningless moment described via a keyboard and posted onto a message board. But to him, to me, it's going to be a very special moment of connection. An act of kindness.

We are in a dance with his chaos, his triggering, his inability to safely connect to others, to himself, to life - and any kindness I (& others) can get him to sense and mirror back. It matters. The fierce consistent kindness, along with the serious boundaries, is slowing the chaotic mess down.

Recently I saw the "authentic boy". OMG he is magnificent. Articulate, sweet, caring and smart. I had to suppress my tears of joy that he had let his guard down with me. It's a very big deal when you are him. Respect can grow when kindness exists. Kindness brings connection, genuine authentic beautiful connection. It heals. Each tiny moment of healing for this boy matters. Enough tiny moments of trust and authentic connection may make a big difference as he gets older. None of us can predict what his future holds. I won’t indulge in such, possibly, dire thoughts.

For now, we work with strong boundaries and true kindness. And I get a boy to show me the really cool water fountain slide thing. I'm looking forward to it.

How long have you been interacting with that boy, Glenda? You've done amazing work connecting with the little lad. Kindness matters.

I hope you two enjoy the really cool water fountain slide thing!

​

 

[Free Being Me]

These are uncertain times for all of us. If you follow world politics and current events you know what I mean. I humbly ask everyone please let's not lapse into coldhearted dehumanizing adversarial cynical pessimism.

I believe kindness is needed more than ever. That's why I started this thread. Kindness is free, it costs you nothing yet its value is beyond any price. I'm not preaching nor advocating a form of pie-in-the-sky idealism, I'm talking about what each of us is capable of because kindness is the core value of our connective humanity, it's already there in us. Without kindness we would be living George Orwell's 1984. I think no one wants that.

I boldly state we can each make a difference, no matter how large or small, simply by having the compassionate courage to express our kindness with words and deeds towards our fellow human beings.

​

 

[Purple Rain]

The worst time in my life has been survivable because of the kindness of my friends. People think they are not doing much, but it makes all the difference in the world.

Not only that, but it truly is the antidote to meanness. When my daughter died, my mother was like, "The hell with Purple," but my friends... too many to name... carried me on their wings. I didn't need alcohol or sedatives because I was bathed in kindness and love.

As far as being kind goes, I wish I could be softer around the edges sometimes. The other night I dreamed that I was fighting with my sister, physically and verbally and it was like she was made of rubber and nothing I could do could hurt her. And I was arguing with my mother at the same time because she was totally on my sister's side, and I couldn't make her understand.

 

[AnonyMary]

 

[Teanntás]

Why Kindness Matters
By
John Sweeney
(TED Talks)
[video=youtube;igCjBFTTiNI]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igCjBFTTiNI[/video]​

Who did that kid want to shoot? About 11.35 on the video

 

[Free Being Me]

The worst time in my life has been survivable because of the kindness of my friends. People think they are not doing much, but it makes all the difference in the world.

Not only that, but it truly is the antidote to meanness. When my daughter died, my mother was like, "The hell with Purple," but my friends... too many to name... carried me on their wings. I didn't need alcohol or sedatives because I was bathed in kindness and love.

As far as being kind goes, I wish I could be softer around the edges sometimes. The other night I dreamed that I was fighting with my sister, physically and verbally and it was like she was made of rubber and nothing I could do could hurt her. And I was arguing with my mother at the same time because she was totally on my sister's side, and I couldn't make her understand.

I've been remiss in not offering you my condolences regarding your daughter, you have my heartfelt sympathies and compassion.

Who did that kid want to shoot? About 11.35 on the video

The kid wanted to join the army because he wanted to shoot people. John Sweeney talks with the kid sorting him out finding out what the kid really means is he wants to protect people from threats. An interesting dialogue because the kid wasn't sure exactly what he meant and you have to admit, on the surface a desire to harm other people in general isn't healthy. Really a great TED talk on kindness for those that haven't watched it already.

 

[Free Being Me]

 

[hummingbird]

This thread reminds me of the "baptism" speech in God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater by Kurt Vonnegut, Junior. The title character was asked to baptize babies, and was asked what he would say. The following was his speech:

Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth.
It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded.
At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here.
There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — "God damn it, you’ve got to be kind."​

 

[Free Being Me]

This thread reminds me of the "baptism" speech in God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater by Kurt Vonnegut, Junior. The title character was asked to baptize babies, and was asked what he would say. The following was his speech:

Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth.
It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded.
At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here.
There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — "God damn it, you’ve got to be kind."​

I haven't heard that quote before, I like it.

 

[Purple Rain]

I've been remiss in not offering you my condolences regarding your daughter, you have my heartfelt sympathies and compassion.

Thank you, Free Being Me. I want to make her a little angel garden one day.

 

[Free Being Me]

Thank you, Free Being Me. I want to make her a little angel garden one day.

That sounds like a very nice meaningful worthy tribute.

 

[Purple Rain]

That sounds like a very nice meaningful worthy tribute.

My daughter was unfailingly kind. There was so much division and drama surrounding the funeral, but, like my other daughter said, "EVERYONE is welcome. Scarlett liked EVERYONE," and that was so true. Because she couldn't speak, she never said a harsh word in her life. Because she couldn't do anything, she never did a mean thing - never hurt anyone. Never told a lie or spread a rumour. None of that. And no matter how hard her life was, her face would light up and beam when she saw you. She loved everyone. She was a truly sweet and good person, although she could be cheeky as well.