“When I do good, I feel good, and when I do bad, I feel bad, and that’s my religion.” (Abraham Lincoln)
I just don’t get it, and I’m beginning to suspect I never will. What exactly is it that trolls derive from trolling?
I read a news story from KIRO Radio about a local businessman, Dwayne Clark, who paid off the layaway costs at Walmart for 110 local families. It’s something a few celebrities have done this holiday season and it’s undoubtedly been a huge gift to struggling families (I think it’s a safe bet that comfortable, affluent folks aren’t doing a lot of layaway shopping at Walmart).
In the article, the author, Gee Scott, described how inspired he was by Clark’s generosity, and also how dismayed he was to see that many people weighed in to criticize the man. They said he was showing off, it was a publicity stunt, just another rich guy showing how rich he is…. However, the author happened to know Clark personally and testified to his many generous actions and his genuine desire to serve and support the community. He noted that Mr. Clark had grown up in a poor household with a single mom who struggled to put gifts on layaway.
“To err on the side of kindness is seldom an error.” (Liz Armbruster)
In the spring of 1991, my mother decided it was time to die. Eight years of thrice-weekly kidney dialysis had taken its toll. Her frailty was compounded by more than a half-century of cigarette smoking and alcohol excess. The final straw was her doctor’s warning that she could no longer live alone. He advised a care facility or moving in with one of her daughters.
Neither option was palatable. Despite being a card-carrying member of the demographic, she frequently said that she couldn’t stand old people. And just as frequently, she vowed never to be a burden to her children. With memories of our somewhat bewildering childhood, we didn’t argue the point. She refused any further dialysis.
“Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world. All things break. And all things can be mended. Not with time, as they say, but with intention. So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally. The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.” (L.R. Knost)
Today, September 25, is the official publication date for my book, A Year of Living Kindly. I wouldn’t be writing those words if it weren’t for you. Really. And I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. And offer you cake.
When I started this blog in January 2015, my intention was to explore kindness in both scholarly and experiential ways, and—I hoped—become kinder as a result. I chose to blog, thinking it would keep me accountable. After all, if I had an audience for my intentions, it would be both noticeable and embarrassing if I abandoned my “year of living kindly” around the ides of March.
“Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.” (Albert Einstein)
How much time do you spend in nature, or if not physically in it, somewhere where you can see and appreciate it?
On the whole, we’re spending less time outdoors and more time on our couches and at our desks, glued to screens—big screens, little screens, in-between screens. As with so many trends we’re seeing, this is not healthy. It has resulted in what writer Richard Louv calls “nature deficit disorder.” According to Louv, the term describes the “human costs of alienation from nature: diminished use of the senses, attention difficulties, higher rates of physical and emotional illnesses, a rising rate of myopia, child and adult obesity, Vitamin D deficiency, and other maladies.”
There’s been abundant research in recent years—more than 100 studies—demonstrating the importance of nature to our physical and mental wellbeing: to our stress and anxiety levels, our happiness, energy, and even our prosocial behaviors, such as kindness and generosity.
“No act of kindness is too small. The gift of kindness may start as a small ripple that over time can turn into a tidal wave affecting the lives of many.” (Kevin Heath)
I was grumpy Monday. I was grumpy and depressed—deeply discouraged by the state of the world, the direction my country is taking, and the incivilities that have become so frequent and commonplace. I was feeling helpless to make any difference toward positive change and also overwhelmed by other things that are happening in my life. It wasn’t a great day.
In the mid-afternoon mail, I received a small envelope from my book publicist’s office. I had requested a supply of her business cards to include when I mailed information out to possible reviewers or others expressing interest in seeing advance copies of A Year of Living Kindly. Ben, the individual who mailed the cards to me, took the time to dash off a short message on a post-it, saying, “Donna, I just wanted to let you know that your book was incredible and inspiring! Thank you for that. ~Ben”
That tiny note changed my day. Suddenly, I felt hopeful. I felt connection. I was touched by Ben’s words. And I was also aware that he could just as easily have mailed me the cards without taking the time to include a note. I would never have known the difference.