“Our children are the living messages we send to a future we will never see… Will we rob them of their destiny? Will we rob them of their dreams? No – we will not do that.” (Elijah Cummings)
In a week that offered a cornucopia of deceit, corruption, disrespect, and disappointment, many of us found hope and reassurance in—of all places—a funeral.
Congressman Elijah Cummings’ death on October 17 stunned and saddened so many Americans. He was a consistent voice for justice, for equality, and for right action. He was also, as Chair of the House Oversight Committee, a key figure in efforts to protect our democracy. And, as so many eulogizers noted, Congressman Cummings was also a relentlessly kind man.
I was brought to tears by former President Barack Obama’s eulogy—a brief, lovely, and quintessentially Obama speech (oh, how I have missed those!). Continue reading →
“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.