Random Acts of Kindness: a one year challenge

I know a woman and her husband who have offered me a precious holiday gift.

My random act of kindness this last Friday was stopping to talk to a homeless man and giving him some money.

 The balloons in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade have fascinated me for as long as I can remember.  I would watch that parade on TV and look at those massive balloons in wonder.  Not so much at the characters captured by the balloons (although who could not feel the world was a better place when Snoopy, Underdog or Bullwinkle floated into sight?), but for how gracefully they floated along and how calm their handlers appeared, smiling and waving at the crowd as they walked in the parade, dozens of people holding individual ropes with ease, as a team tethering and grounding these huge beasts.

 I was downtown Friday morning for a meeting with a friend as part of my ongoing quest for Global Public Health Domination.  Holiday decorations were everywhere, mostly tasteful and festive, occasionally not so much.  Yes, I know, judging.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t super cold according to the temperature but the wind was intense as it plowed its way through the man-made canyons between the office buildings.  It was the kind of wind that did a super good job of finding any crease or nook where you hadn’t quite adequately encased your skin, then snuggled down into it, like a kitten. Only in this case it was a freezing-ass kitten with sharp teeth.  All in all, unpleasant.

As I navigated my way to the Metro, I saw a homeless man, fairly well bundled but not enough to protect against the vicious kitten that was the wind, curled against a museum stairway banister to get out of said kitten wind.  The banister was ironically decorated for the holidays. Given that his task was to get money from people passing by, he repeatedly had to uncurl from his kitten wind protection to engage passersby. Friday was a sucky day to do that.  In part this was because what little body heat he was retaining was lost when he uncurled, and because when passersby are all bundled with an intense focus on minimizing exposed flesh and moving quickly to the next warm place, it is easier to ignore homeless people.  In all fairness, many people probably didn’t even see him as their kitten-wind protective clothing created tunnel vision. I probably would have missed him myself, but I didn’t.  I wish I could say it was because I was on the prowl for RAK opportunities and keenly aware that the weather would be causing my fellow humans to be suffering (Go, Fierce RAK Warrior, go!). However, the truth is I was playing this silly game with myself where I was trying to listen really closely to the sound the wind made as it cruised the canyons, so I didn’t have a hat on……No, I have no explanation for that one.

Anyway, I did see him, and what was going on, and felt how cold it was (Stupid vicious kitten wind), and that the money-gathering cards were not stacked in his favor that day.  So I stopped. We talked for a few moments, mostly about…..wait for it…..the weather.  I gave him a little more money than I typically do if I choose to give in the vain hope it might help to make up for what was likely to be a low intake kind of day, we looked each other in the eye, smiled, said our goodbyes, and I stepped back into my nice safe warm stream.

Back to those holiday decorations…..which mean Holidays…..yeah…. I have been meaning to write about that.  Why not now, you sarcastically ask?  What a great idea, I sarcastically say.  Where to begin? Back when I was a wee lad……that may be a bit too far back. Let’s just say that for most of my life I have loved Christmas.  Not so much because of the presents (although, Santa, if you are reading, I am a big fan so don’t think I am unappreciative), rather because of all the accouterments: the tree, the lights, the ornaments, the way people decorate their houses, the “holiday classic” movies (especially love that “A Christmas Carol” and who can watch the end of “A Wonderful Life” without crying?), the music, the chance to sing with others, the pageantry, the ceremony.  All of it.  I embraced it with a child-like wonder and have clear memories of the sensation in my heart as I soaked it up (remember I am the sentimental, Norman Rockwell, Hallmark Greeting Card guy).  And, Christmas is not even my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving is. Sharing food, being with people you care deeply about, let’s not forget the annual release of the Beaujolais, and, yes, I make people say one thing they are thankful for when at my house.  It is also the holiday my daughter, Haley, and I spend together, and have done so across pretty much her entire life. Christmas is with her wonderful mother and her loving other family. Thanksgiving is ours.

You: Sounds lovely and hokey.  Why are we talking about this?

This year I was in the Philippines for Thanksgiving.  The work was important (Hippies! Global Public Health Domination!) and it was a rare opportunity.  Last year, there was a wedding in Haley’s other family (I think that’s what it was) so of course I encouraged her to go. Christmas is her mother’s and I would never want Haley to miss the magic that is Christmas with her other family, so in my mind “swapping holidays” has never been an option to even consider.

What about that Christmas thing in my world? Yeah, I have been thinking about that quite a bit lately, especially in the context of not having celebrated TWO Thanksgivings in a row, and have come to a realization. Somewhere along the way, I have drifted from Christmas and I worry I am drifting from Thanksgiving.

I have had a pretty intense last few years with some pretty intense “challenges” in that time.  I have had some wonderful times as well, including loving offers to share in other families’ holidays and amaze-balls holiday meals with a person who was pretty intensely special in my life, but I can see I have clearly drifted. There was an understandable, if pretty intense, triggering event related to a relationship ending that started my tumble off the Holiday Path and down the hill, but, somewhere in the midst of those multiple years of pretty intense, I didn’t try to stop myself from tumbling, didn’t try to get back on the Holiday Path.  I have had many opportunities to re-engage with Christmas and its magic, but I didn’t.  I have never been Bah Humbug! but I have been completely disengaged and apathetic. I didn’t have any negative feelings about Christmas, I didn’t have any feelings at all about Christmas. Fucks given: None. I became a Macy’s Parade balloon (I am thinking Bullwinkle) and for various reasons, one-by-one my handlers let go of the rope. Untethered and ungrounded, I have floated across the last few years of my life, watching Christmas (sometimes from quite close), marking its passage, but never engaged.  I couldn’t engage because I was floating (which did not feel like too bad a thing to be doing), and because I was floating, I didn’t care about Christmas…..or New Year’s….or Valentine’s Day….or even Groundhog Day (Yes, not even Groundhog Day).

So who cares?  Why does it matter? Except for maybe Groundhog Day, these are “just days.” But no, no they are not “just days.” They are days that have meaning, meaning that is derived from our connectedness to these other globs of flesh we call humans, the people in our lives, the people we have bravely mingled worlds with, even the people of our chance encounters (Good will toward Man and all that). So, fuck, it matters, it matters in all kinds of ways, but here is the one I think is most relevant to Random Acts of Kindness.  Why did I drift from a holiday that has been so meaningful, if in the most goofy of ways, for almost my entire life?  Why am I flirting dangerously with drifting from my favorite holiday, one that has bound my daughter and me in a fundamentally important way for almost her entire life?  It is humbling and painful to admit, but I became afraid of fully caring about people, of being truly open and vulnerable with those I loved most.  To my core I am generous, caring and “nice,” and have become afraid of the vulnerability that is needed to truly connect, truly love. Truth be told, I doubt I have ever been a rock star at the being-truly-open-and-vulnerable-with-those-I-love-most bit, and, untethered and ungrounded, I have drifted even further away.

Random acts of kindness.  Fucking random acts of kindness.  Turns out I can’t fucking do fucking random acts of kindness as I have defined the game without striving to be fully present with my fellow flesh puppets, and I can’t be fucking fully present while happily drifting untethered and ungrounded.  So the last several months have involved (and I don’t think I gave informed consent about this), among many other discoveries, becoming increasingly tethered and grounded, increasingly present, increasingly vulnerable, increasingly accepting (maybe) of whatever floats into my stream or whenever I climb into an Other’s stream to explore.

So for the first time in 5? 6? years, I am stopping to notice the Holiday lights, appreciate the colors and decorations, listen to the music, and I may even sing.  Perhaps oddly or perhaps not oddly, I find that I am experiencing sadness as that certain sense of wonder returns as I work to ground Bullwinkle, a sadness I believe I will have to more fully embrace to understand (sounds like fun, right?).

And I have an overwhelming appreciation for what turned out to be the Random Act of Kindness by a woman I know and her husband that started me on my own RAK path. Words cannot express my gratitude to them.