Tag Archives: fear

Kindness Report Card

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 “How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant of the weak and strong.  Because someday in your life, you will have been all of these.”  (George Washington Carver)

gradesThe first three months of my year of living kindly have passed like a kid on a skateboard.  Since the end of a quarter seems like an appropriate time for a report card, I will indulge in some self-evaluation.

Am I kinder than I was three months ago?  I think so, but my husband says he hasn’t noticed any difference.

Admittedly, Bill sees me at my worst.  He’s also quick to alert me when I fall short of my intent.  After an apple-green Fiat pulls out right in front of our car from a side street causing me to mash down my brakes, and then slows to a crawl ahead of me, I say, “Oh, come on, lady, really, how about looking both ways?”

Bill’s response: “Was that kind?”  No, probably not.

[Note to self for next time I embark on anything of this nature: do not share intentions with husband—assuming same husband; do not invite him to follow blog.]

As I review the concepts I’ve explored over the last three months, I see that there are some areas where I have taken my ideas to heart, and some where I may not have picked up my own gauntlet.

Overall, I guess I’d give myself about a C+.  Just looking at that grade makes me shudder.  When I was in school (back in the days of crinoline and manual typewriters), anything less than an A was terribly upsetting, and anything lower than a B—well—other than a C in penmanship in 4th grade—I never got any grades lower than B’s (and very few of those).  So giving myself a C+ in kindness feels like failing a test in a favorite subject.

In our office, we’ve been talking a lot about evaluations, and we decided there’s a lot to be said for a simple “thumbs-up” or “thumbs-down” method.  Thumbs up indicates that one’s on the right track, and thumbs down indicates the need for a lot more work.

thumbs downUnder the “needs a lot of work” area of my report card, I would list the following:

Kindness awareness – My tendency toward obliviousness throughout most areas of my life extends to kindness.  I am missing opportunities to be kind by simply not seeing them.  Just as I step over piles of clutter in my office and totally don’t see dirty dishes on the kitchen counter, I am often oblivious to situations where I could offer a kind word or deed.  It is not intentional, it is my own failure to be present and mindful.  I think it’s called GAD (general awareness disorder), and there’s undoubtedly a pharmaceutical company looking into it, or a support group for us somewhere, but, well, who’s paying attention…?

Being judge-y – I think I am doing better here, but I still catch myself with unkind or critical thoughts.  I am, however, far less likely to voice them and more able to brush them aside.  I still find myself wondering, though, about the people who allow their screaming kids to run around the restaurant, or the ones who leave their carts blocking the grocery aisle while they talk on their phones.  I guess they are oblivious in their own ways, too.  Someone told me that it’s okay to think snarky thoughts if I keep them to myself.  I’m not so sure about that, but I’ll take a pass whenever offered.

Risking rejection or looking foolish – At times, I am still hesitant to extend a kindness if I fear it will be rejected.  Likewise, I have passed on opportunities to be kind if I feared they would draw unwanted attention or if I might appear incompetent or foolish.  I play it too safe.  I am incompetent and foolish in so many areas of my life—might as well admit it, get over it, and plough through.

thumbs downMy report card might classify these as “on the right track”:

Patience – While still a long way to go, I am more patient.  I am taking to heart my own perspective that if my #1 job is to be kind, then it’s much easier to be patient when someone or something gets in my way or slows me down.  If being kind supersedes all else, the time it takes shouldn’t bother me—and, more and more, it doesn’t.

Kindness expectations – I am making an effort to expect kindness and smooth sailing in all my interactions, and with very few exceptions that is what I am experiencing.  It does appear that given a chance most people’s default setting is kindness.  The downside to this is that I have had almost no opportunities to see how I do at expressing kindness in the face of unkindness or rudeness.  People are all just so nice.

Kindness awareness – Yes, this was also on my “needs work” list, but there are areas of progress.  I have gotten in the habit of frequently asking myself before I say or do something: Is this the kindest action?  Is this the kind response?  And there have been times when that pause has enabled me to adjust my course or choose differently or more wisely.  A couple of weeks ago, I was stopped for speeding—first time in 35 years.  As the policeman walked up to my car, I reminded myself to be kind and friendly—that this part of his job was not always pleasant.  Are you thinking that I charmed him out of writing me a ticket?  No, that didn’t happen, but he very kindly wrote me up for only five miles above the speed limit, instead of the thirteen I was actually going, which saved me about $70 on the ticket.  I thanked him very sincerely.  Now, on my way home from work, when I see him parked in that same hidden driveway, I am tempted to wave, but I fear he may misinterpret the sign.

Expressing appreciation – Going back to that oblivious thing, I know I am still missing a lot of opportunities to express appreciation, but I am also doing it more: commending people for their work, notes of appreciation, sincere thanks.

So, as a new quarter starts, I see that I have some work to do: I want to extend kindness more even when it may be out of my way or inconvenient—always mindful that it’s my #1 job.  I want to take some risk and be kind even if it might not be comfortable.  I want to overcome inertia and obliviousness and expand my kindness radar.  I want to continue to pause, to express thanks, and look for the kind response.  I also want to get at least a B next quarter, or find a teacher who grades easier….

“The difference between school and life? In school, you’re taught a lesson and then given a test. In life, you’re given a test that teaches you a lesson.”  (Tom Bodett)

When Fear Gets in the Way of Kindness

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“Be not afraid.  A kind life, a life of spirit, is fundamentally a life of courage—the courage simply to bring what you have, to bring who you are.” (Wayne Muller)

Attrib: Donna CameronThere are many barriers to extending kindness, and fear may be one of the biggest.  Fear is also frequently the cause of people acting unkindly.  In an earlier post, I described an ah-ha I had when dealing with a disgruntled conference attendee a while back (does this mean that the other conference participants were “gruntled”?): much of her unpleasant behavior was the result of her fears in the face of a new and intimidating experience. When I see unkindness—my own or others—I can often trace it to fear: fear of judgment, fear of rejection, fear of not being enough, fear of being vulnerable, fear of looking foolish.  It’s true not just with unkindness, but also with that netherworld between kindness and unkindness—indifference. There’s an old proverb that “pride goeth before a fall.”  As with so many old proverbs, this one holds a ring of truth.  Fear and pride do often go hand-in-glove.  Most of the things we fear are threats to our pride, to the image we have of how good, strong, smart, capable, and lovable we are.  When these are shaken, we either strike out or strike back. Sometimes, if we are able to see someone’s unkindness toward us as an expression of their own fear, it is easier to forgive and respond to them with kindness, rather than retaliating and escalating the encounter. Just as fear can often be the impetus for our acting unkindly, it can just as easily be a barrier to our extending kindness.  Sometimes the thought of putting myself out there or taking the risk to do something kind can be enough to stifle the impulse. Two Key Questions I’ve often heard that when dealing with my fears I should ask, “What is the worst that could happen?”  Then, assuming “worst” is not a fiery death or a lengthy prison term, further evaluate whether I could handle “worst.”  In the case of extending a kindness, what’s the worst that could happen?

  • I might be embarrassed. I could deal with that—it won’t be the first time.
  • I might be rejected. I can get over that, I always have.
  • I might do it badly (whatever it is). Well, that’s how we learn—very few of us get it right the first time. But if we never try….
  • I might be judged as foolish or stupid, or weak. Well, so who does judgment reflect on, really? The judger, not me.
  • I might be put in a vulnerable position. Well, life is a pretty vulnerable condition, might as well accept that.

I think it’s a useful exercise to ask “what’s the worst that could happen?”  But I also think that’s only half the question.  The other half—the more important half—is “what’s the best that could happen?”  Let’s look at our potential action from that perspective: What’s the best that could happen if I extend a kindness?

  • I might help someone feel good or make it through a tough day.
  • I might grow closer to an old friend or make a new one.
  • My words or actions might be just what someone else needs to extend a kindness themselves.
  • I might be appreciated.
  • I might be judged as loving, compassionate, or wise.
  • I might become more confident in my own values and actions.
  • I might overcome a fear and be the better person that I want to be.
  • I might change the world.

This last one might sound a bit grand, but, truly, we have no idea where or how our kindnesses reverberate.  The small kindness I extend to one person might cause them to extend a kindness they might otherwise not have acted upon.  And then that person might … you get the picture. We’ve all heard the stories of someone suffering the depths of despair whose potential act of self-destruction was suspended by a seemingly small act—a kind note, or word, or gesture from someone.  What if we approached every encounter with a sense of the sacredness of our words and actions, and of the potential each of us carries to change the world for the better? I think looking at the best that could happen is a great way to overcome the fear that keeps us from being kind to others … and perhaps also to ourselves.  Also, if we’re focused on best, rather than worst, then our eyes are on the prize—we’re thinking about what we want to happen, not what we don’t want.  The world and our own unconscious inner resources will conspire to make it happen. It requires a change in our perspective and our paradigms.  It may not be easy, but it’s worth it.  After, all, what’s the worst that could happen … and what’s the best?

“Each smallest act of kindness reverberates across great distances and spans of time—affecting lives unknown to the one whose generous spirit was the source of this good echo, because kindness is passed on and grows each time it’s passed, until a simple courtesy becomes an act of selfless courage, years later and far away.” (Dean Koontz)

“Kill ‘em with Kindness” – A Lesson from My Mother

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“Kindness is in our power, even when fondness is not.” (Samuel Johnson)

Attribution: Donna CameronMy mother could be remarkably kind, but she also could be startlingly unkind.  And the change from one behavior to the other could be as fast as a green light switching to red—without the warning amber light in-between.  The kind Connie was always the one I hoped to see, but occasionally the other Connie could be a hoot-and-a-half.  I think she knew it and kept that part of her at the ready for when she wanted to surprise people who thought they had her pegged.

When I was in high-school, she worked as a receptionist and scheduler in a large medical practice.  She told me once that when people were rude or impatient with her, she made it a goal to turn them around by “killing them with kindness.”  She would answer a scowl with her brightest smile, a hostile comment with sympathetic and serene understanding.  She would look for ways to help—whether a glass of water, a compliment, or generous use of their name.  She told me that frequently when these people left, they made it a point to stop by her desk and thank her for her kindness.  Sometimes—though not often—they even apologized for being short with her.

I remember asking her if it wasn’t hard to be nice to people who were so unpleasant to her.

She told me, “No, I look at it as a game.  I win if I can remain nice in the face of their rudeness.  And I win even more if I can influence them to change their behavior.”

Let the Kindness Games Begin

For some reason I remembered her words many years later when a few of my company colleagues and I were staffing a large 4-day conference for one of our association clients.  On the second day, one of our team came to me and asked if I could help them deal with a woman who had been giving them nothing but grief from the moment she checked in at the registration desk the day before.  She had complained about the parking at the hotel, the cost of the conference, the complexity of the conference brochure, and even the distance to the restrooms.  Today, she was upset because there were two breakout sessions that she really wanted to attend, but they were at the same time, so she could only attend one.

As I was walking up to her, I remembered my mother’s strategy and thought I’d give it a try.  After I introduced myself and asked how I could help, she declared that the conference was a huge disappointment and had obviously not been planned well.  She wanted to attend two sessions that were being offered at the same time.  Why, she asked, weren’t we repeating sessions, so she could go to both?  Or, failing that, why didn’t we tape all the sessions so she could get a recording of the one she couldn’t attend?

I did my best to empathize with her frustration and explain why neither of her ideas—while entirely reasonable—had been practical for this conference.  Mostly I listened and absorbed her dissatisfaction.  When she finally headed off to attend the session, I breathed a sigh of relief, but didn’t especially feel that I had accomplished what I set out to do.  I wondered if there was more I could do to turn this woman’s negativity around.

As it happened, the session she was unable to attend was on a topic I had some understanding of and interest in.  I checked with the team to see if they could do without me for 90 minutes and headed to the room where the class was being held.  I picked up two sets of the handouts and sat down to listen.

When it was over, I headed out to look for the woman our staff and some of the volunteers had dubbed “Nasty Nancy.”

I saw her sitting by herself in a chair by a window.  I asked if I could join her.  She nodded curtly.  I then handed her the handouts from the session she had missed and told her I had attended it and would be glad to share with her what I thought were the key points.  Her eyes widened and after a long pause she eagerly accepted.  I pulled out the notes I had taken and started sharing some of the speaker’s concepts that had struck me.  She pulled out a pen and started making notes.  Then she asked—almost shyly—if I would be willing to share my notes with her.  I looked at my messy notes and then at her, “If you can read my handwriting, you’re welcome to them.  I’ll get a copy made and have them for you at the registration desk after lunch.”

She thanked me—not profusely, but genuinely—and asked me more questions about the session I had attended.  Mission accomplished, I thought to myself.

For the remainder of the conference, there were no more complaints about “Nasty Nancy.”  She sought me out a few times, and once, after she had joined me at a lunch table, she admitted that she had never been to a conference this large before and she was a bit overwhelmed by the crowds and the choices.  I remembered the first big convention I had attended and identified with her anxiety.  Once I saw Nancy’s behaviors as a response to her fear, I saw her in a new light.

I suspect Nancy still responds with aggression to situations where she feels uncertain or fearful, but maybe she’s learned some new strategies.

What Pushes Your Buttons?

I wonder if we would all be kinder if everyone walked around with thought balloons above our heads describing our circumstances:  “I’m scared.” “Just broke up with my girlfriend.”  “Haven’t a clue what to do next.” “I don’t wanna look stupid.”  What is your thought balloon saying when you feel the impulse to lash out or act unkindly?

I wonder, also, how many similar opportunities to “kill ‘em with kindness” I’ve missed because I was in too much of a hurry, too lazy, or simply oblivious.  Perhaps I can practice being more mindful and better able to recognize and respond in the future.  It felt good and it was a good learning experience.

Thanks, Nancy.  And, thanks, Mom!