“I cannot live without books.” (Thomas Jefferson to John Adams)
Many years ago, a friend gave me a paperweight with that Jefferson quote inscribed on it. It has sat on my desk for more than two decades. I suppose it is a bit of exaggeration to say one cannot live without books. Maslow’s hierarchy did not lump books with food, water, oxygen, or shelter. Had they been mentioned at all, books might have been relegated to the levels where belonging or self-actualization reside.
Less poetic, but perhaps more precise would be to say I cannot imagine a life without books.
“You can say any foolish thing to a dog, and the dog will give you a look that says, ‘Wow, you’re right! I never would’ve thought of that!’” (Dave Barry)
My explorations of kindness over the past three years have focused mostly on human kindness, and, on rare occasions, the lack thereof. There have been some days recently when human kindness seems to be in short supply worldwide. The daily news is filled with hostility, incivility, finger-pointing, and name-calling. Its magnitude drowns out the kindnesses all around us, for they are often subtle and spoken in soft voices. At times like these, I look to other sources for a kindness “fix.” I look to our four-legged friends.
“Elegance and kindness is an elegant and kind reply to the rudeness of this world.” (Mehmet Murat ildan)
Edsel Ford Fong, the world’s rudest waiter, 1982; Photo by Ken Gammage; public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
There’s been a story in the news recently about a waiter in Vancouver, British Columbia, who was fired from his job last summer for rude and aggressive behavior. It seems he is now suing his former employer for a human rights violation, claiming that he is not rude, he’s merely French. His firing, Guillaume Rey contends, is discrimination against his “direct and expressive” culture.
The arguments on all sides of this have been most entertaining.
Some are defending rudeness as a quality of the French that is practically inbred. Others are saying that if a Frenchman wants to work in oh-so-polite Canada, he’d better change his ways. Some have said the waiter’s rudeness has been mostly directed toward his work colleagues for their shoddy performance, and that restaurant patrons find him not only acceptable, but charming.
“People won’t have time for you if you are always angry or complaining.” (Stephen Hawking)
Looking around at the world today, there’s plenty to complain about. Those triggers may be different for each of us, but unless you’ve somehow maneuvered your way into a bubble of bliss, there’s a lot of crap raining down on parades everywhere.
So, we complain. We complain about politics, we complain about our jobs, we complain about our relatives, we complain about the cost of turnips, and—of course—we complain about the weather. And we don’t just complain in solitude, or in silence. We also get together and vent—maybe over drinks after work, or around a dinner table, or when we chat with neighbors over the back fence. It seems to come effortlessly.
“My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.” (Dalai Lama)
It was just over three years ago when I started this blog. My intent at the time was to spend a year learning all I could about kindness—about what it is and isn’t, how to live a kind life, why to live a kind life, and the science behind it all. My hope was that at the end of 2015 I would be a kinder person; if so, I would consider the effort to have been successful.
I’m happy to say the year was life-changing, though the changes may only have been evident to myself. I have not become a paragon of kindness. I can still be bitchy and cranky and oblivious, but those occurrences are less frequent. I am kinder, and I am so much more aware of kindness all around me. I am also happier.
While he’s never actually admitted it, I believe my husband hoped when I wrapped up 2015 I would set a different intention for 2016: a year of learning to vacuum or a year of reading all the books I buy and surround myself with.