Tag Archives: facing fears

RAK at the edge of the shore, or RAK with a side of shame

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I know a woman who, along with her husband, helped me to find the courage to pull back the curtain and expose the man behind who is using the frightening and impressive smoke and mirrors.

I am in Manila, Philippines all this week working on a public health project (I am a behavioral scientist, damn it, not a hippie!). I am sad to be away for Thanksgiving (my favorite holiday) but my daughter and I will celebrate when I get back this weekend, and the work I do here might make a difference…..or not. There is a lot I have been thinking about regarding being away on this holiday, but that is for another blog as I am still sorting that out. There is another topic to ponder for today.

IMG_1651.JPGIMG_1601-0.JPGMy RAK the first day here was to give food to a “street dweller.” Good one, right? Yeah….. but it is more complicated than that. Sigh, isn’t it always? But perhaps a story worth telling and wondering about.

When I drop out of space into a new country the first few hours are a disorienting kaleidoscope of images, sounds and smells (ah, the smells……let’s agree to just skip the descriptions of that part of the experience). I have found that the best way to overcome this overwhelming sensory waterfall is by immersing myself in its waters by walking through busy streets. It also turns out that being out in the sunshine is a good way for me to shake up the circadian rhythm of my brain to help with jet lag. Bonus!

So, after my morning meetings, I headed out toward a park a couple kilometers away from my hotel through the streets with some marvelously intense sensory experience. At the edge of the park, I stumbled across a group of about a dozen hawkers food stalls, closely lined on each side of long picnic tables, under a tin roof, open at each end. Think outdoor food court….with an array of food you would never find in a U.S. shopping mall food court. During mealtimes, these places are crowded, I mean wall-to-wall people crowded, busy, buzzing and it is a challenge to take in and process the whole scene, especially when jet lagged. I walked through, passing the various stalls, trying to absorb the offerings of each stall without lingering too long and garnering the attention of an employee who would then seek to engage me in a negotiation to make a commitment. A tricky process. In the end, I made my choice in part randomly and in part by location because I didn’t think my brain could handle walking all the w
ay back through the buzzing hive without abandoning me and fleeing my skull for a nice quiet spot under the picnic tables. With discretion being the better part of valor, I chose one near the end of the row.

My choice provided me a generous portion of two entrees and rice served in a styrofoam container like what a sub-sandwich might come in with entrees in the container and the rice in the lid. Doing a bit of quick math in my head, this feast cost me about $8 USD…..when my brain was back on line later that day, I realized it only cost me $1.50 USD(!) and that included a soda too.

I sat on a ledge close to the market next to a dental clinic (I don’t know if the proximity of the dental clinic to the hawkers food market was a good or bad thing, or completely random), eating, occasionally chatting with the young men sitting next to me, taking in the sea of people. As I ate, the bustling crowd momentarily parted, revealing a man about 20 ft away, digging through the food court trash can….right there….surrounded by people talking and laughing and quickly eating their lunch before returning to work to whom he appeared to be invisible.

I stood up so I could see over the crowd (turns out that I am sort of a giant in the Philippines) what he was doing. I was saddened, appalled and a bit nauseated to see that he was methodically digging through the trash, opening the discarded styrofoam containers and dumping the contents into a plastic shopping bag.

I immediately stopped eating and started walking toward him. I could see that he had about a gallon of rice and bits of food scrapes in his bag. I was disgusted by how it looked, imagining the effect of the heat and humidity on the contents wrapped in plastic, and, for some reason, the way he kept digging deeper into the trash can to find containers he had not yet opened distressed and upset me. I wanted him to stop. I wanted him to stop now.

As I approached, I opened my container with my fork in it and I offered it to him as one offers a business card in Asia, slight bow and with both hands. In my mind, I was offering food, not trash. He did not break from his task. He took my container, removed the fork, threw the fork into the trash can (points for not littering the fork, nor the emptied containers; all into the trash can), dumped my offering into his bag and continued his search for unopened containers. I was already in the process of turning away but in my head I was thinking, “Wow, I gave you food and you threw it in with the garbage,” which upset me because, coming from my world, I expected him to eat my leftovers…..with the fork I had proved. It was hard for me to understand that in his world my offering meant something different, more to add to his bag.

As I walked away and was thinking about this interaction, I felt a wave of shame. Not because my “special gift” of food had been trashed (literally from my point of view) but because of the interaction in itself. More specifically, shame about my behavior during the interaction. In telling you about my “generosity,” I left out some details, minor details, but they mattered to me. As I approached this man, I averted my gaze, I turned my head away when I handed him the remains of my lunch, i did not make eye contact, I did not even look at him, I did not speak to him, I walked quickly away back into the crowd. And I was ashamed. I recognized a fellow human wrapped in suffering and in need, but I did not acknowledge his humanness.

In many places I have been, I have seen Poverty, sometimes Intense Poverty, Poverty so deeply woven into the fabric of that place that one cannot imagine how it would ever be different. I am no doe-eyed American school boy about the world of humans……well, at least in some contexts anyway. And being present with this man, truly seeing him, acknowledging his personhood was more than I could do. I could not look into the face of this person who was swimming in a massive ocean filled with so many other humans swimming into those same waters while I stood on the shore and tossed in bits of rice. Like feeding koi, standing serenely on the waters edge, safe in the knowledge that I would never swim in those waters. As I walked away into the park, I file this event under “S” for Shame and locked in a filing cabinet for consideration later.IMG_0016-0.JPG

Much to my own surprise, given what I know about my preference for avoidance, a few hours later I did bring it out of the basement and into the sun for consideration. Go, me. I realized that Shame was growing its thorny self on fears and false assumptions about how I “should” act, how the man “should” act. These expectations masked the reality that I had done a random act of kindness. I had seen another human was in need of kindness and responded as best I could, with as much presence as I was capable. That I was overwhelmed by the gulf between my world and his and the intensity of his need, that I could not look him in the face, does not change the fact that I did see him and I acted. And I learned. I felt the rough edge of how far I could go, and I started to question why I could not go further.

I turned this over in my head and in my heart. Why was I unable to accept the situation for what it was and why did I so vehemently want it to stop and go away? Why was I disgusted and rejecting? In a basic way, my offering him my “trash” and wanting it to be “food” was about me, was driven by my not wanting to face the harsh reality of this person’s daily existence, and that of many others in this city. His active demonstration of his intense poverty in the middle of a hive of relative prosperity, while we turned food into trash, we ignored his blatant efforts to turn trash into food. How dare he be a shining beacon of the horror of poverty in action while we were eating lunch. It somehow seemed so much more palatable to walk by beggars on the streets, witness impoverished people mingled with others on the streets thereby being in awareness but hidden enough to not be flashing their Intense Poverty Colors. Ouch. What Ugliness, Ugliness on MY part. How much easier it is to perform random acts of kindness when a Poor Person does not force me to truly step into the horrific reality that is the polluted, neglect stream they swim in.

Crap, crap, crap. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Nothing like having the curtain pulled back and receiving a chance to exam so closely you can see each pore of the illusions you create to keep the world an acceptable level of tolerable. A humbling lesson, a humbling realization about myself and my efforts to fit the world into nicely defined boxes, even when I am trying hard at “being open to experience.” AND despite my personal limitations, my demanding expectations of how I should have been to be a “good person” and to truly be a prize winning RAK-er, and my absurd underlying expectations of the impact my small gesture would have on this man’s experience of the moment, despite how much my actions were driven by my discomfort with the situation, despite all of this, this was also still a random act of kindness. While aspects of my behavior were driven by parts of me that I want to be otherwise and hope to change, it is also true that I saw him and was moved by his suffering to interact with him and show kindness. My shame would need to find another place to root and grow (don’t worry about its welfare as there are many other places with fertile soil in the complex landscape that is me).

Among the many important facets of this event and my subsequent questioning is one that is rare and precious. The acknowledgement that it is not a failure to have times when I am less than what I expect from myself, want from myself. This acknowledgement is itself a random act of kindness to myself. A rare and precious RAK indeed.

Enough?

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I know a woman who continues to touch many people’s lives in ways that seem meaningful.  A powerful tribute to her life.

Maze #1 2014 Maze #2 2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am starting with a digression (You: seriously? Sigh). Thinking back about the “rules” discussion we had last blog. It occurred to me that I should pass along that there is more than knowing the rules (your’s & other people’s). Knowing of Rules is a key piece to the puzzle, but it turns out you have to act on that knowledge. I will confess that my first response to learning this was, “Are you freaking kidding me? I have to do all this difficult and often painful work to explore nooks and crannies and opening locked trunks in my psychological basement (and yes, it is dark, and there are spiders and rats and scary things down there) to discover and bring a large pile of crazy shit out into the sunshine, and now there is more to do!!??” Not a happy camper. I was sort of hoping there would prizes, hopefully a medal, maybe even a parade. “The winner for Best Personal Insight in a Complicated Human goes to……..Erik!” The crowd cheers, I run to the stage, wiping a tear from my eye. I am a bit chagrined to admit that I even drafted an acceptance speech.

Of course, I knew this, knew that it wasn’t just about knowing or sorting & filing these “wise, deep personal insights” (Can I get an Ohhmmmmmm?). It is about using what you learn to begin and sustain the process of becoming a glob of flesh that is more true to……true to…..who you want to be? Who you are? Who you were before your history buried the real You? I really don’t know. It is apparent though that this process involves acting on those “wise, deep personal insights” which is not a simple task.

You: Got it. Thanks for the….. “wise, deep personal insights.” How about that RAK Challenge thing?
Oh, right….. Ok, a couple weeks back, as I was leaving a convenience store, a man who was also walking out dropped one of the lottery tickets he had just purchased.  I know that is what was dropped because I too was at the store to purchase a slip of desperate hope (Yes, I understand what 740,000,000 to 1 means, but a guy can dream).  I picked it up, called to him and gave it back. Of course when I did, I thought “What if this is the winning ticket?” I suspect he did too.

Lots of different ways to wonder about that RAK (including was that really a RAK or “doing the right thing” but let’s set that question aside…because I want RAK credit for it!). What I want to wonder about is that I know there are people who would say, “What a fucking dumbass! That could have been the winning ticket.” And another group who would say, “What a great act of kindness! That could have been the winning ticket.” What differentiates these two groups of people?  Why do some people get so intensely angry, to the point of sometimes killing each other, when someone cuts them off in traffic, but other people don’t care at all? I had a colleague who once threatened to “ruin my career” because he was in such a panic when he found out my team and I had been working independently for months on an idea and he felt it was his idea. On the other hand, I give ideas away all the time, knowing there are so many cool and exciting ideas, I could never do a fraction of them, please take them and nurture them. If I hold on to them they will wither and die from neglect. (I have many character flaws so don’t think I am trying to say how generous and wonderful I am or whatever)

Again, what differentiates these two groups? Two so different ways of being in the world? Of course the world is not this dichotomous and the reasons are numerous, but I do think there is a core perception that explains much of what puts us into one of these camps. I don’t think it has anything to do with intelligence, education, economic status, religion or any of that stuff. Heck, I don’t think it has anything to do with being a “nice person.”  What then?  I think under all the many factors that contribute to this way of responding is a person’s answer to a simple core question that colors how we view and interact with our world.

The question: Is there enough? Yes or no? The implications of the answer run deep.

Do you feel in your bones that the world is a place of plenty or scarcity? If you believe there is Not Enough, the world becomes a place of winners and losers. You have to prepare for the long winter, for the drought, the time of famine that will surely come. It feels like when things are given to others, it means you get less. You lose when others gain. To protect yourself you need to fight for every resource and see others as competitors who will potentially steal what you need. Do not let down your guard or you will lose. Someone cuts you off in traffic? They are taking from you. Someone has the same idea as you? They have clearly stolen from your precious hoard. Not Enough is a painful way to live.

At times in my life when I found myself coming from a place of Not Enough, I felt tense, constricted, anxious, grasping, putting others down in order to undermine their chance to be given what I needed to feel good about myself. I felt small.

If you believe there is Enough, then others receiving does not mean less for you. You don’t have to be constantly on guard that others are stealing what you need. There are certainly still many psychological monsters to be afraid of and demons to struggle with, but this is one less fear, and it is a huge one to be able to ignore because it is so fundamental. If there is Enough, it becomes easier to let go.

Based on the last few months of daily random kindness, it feels like being able to let go is a foundation. Seems you could still do RAK but the kind acts available to you would be narrow and your ability to sustain this type of kindness impaired. Of course if Not Enough is part of every breath, then RAK is impossible. Not Enough is a painful way to live. Not Enough puts you into a tiny box. Not Enough creates a canyon between you and Love.

What do you think? What do you feel? Is there enough?

 

Fear of Random Acts of Kindness: Part Two

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Mr. Kitty on the stairs 2014 Lion Statue 10-2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know a young woman who, along with her husband, has inspired me to deepen the process of asking the question “Does it have to be this way?”

Continuing on my last post, thinking about how attempting to perform daily random acts of kindness over an extended period shines a light on those times when I hesitate, or in all honesty walk away even when it is clear someone needs kindness (least anyone starts thinking I am some kind of saint…although I believe we have clearly established that I am “nice,” right?) . This year will reveal many things, both the good and the challenging, which whirl around my brain and through my various guts and innards making it sometime easy and sometimes hard, even impossible, for me to perform RAK.  Some of this goop I know nothing about.  Some of this goop I know quite a bit about, although I will confess that it turns out that even the goop I firmly believe I am keenly aware of and have well under control, turns out to be more goopy than I thought.  Huh, perhaps I should have stated that up front several posts back, sort of a disclaimer: Let’s not make any kind of assumption that at the end of this year, everything is going to be wrapped up in a tidy package.  That would be most awesome though. I wonder if I would get some sort of prizes for being so wise and having used such good thinkology? I will look into that.  In the meantime, I am a gloriously complicated person and that’s all we got to work with.

Back to RAK:  Why is it that sometimes performing simple random acts of kindness can be difficult, make me feel uncomfortable and even require me to push past fear? An important part of the underlying goop, for me, is the fear associated with Ignorance and Want.

The second child that the Ghost of Christmas Present reveals to Scrooge is a girl named Want. Like ignorance, she is “wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable” and “yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility.”    For me, Want pushes on two painful pressure points: The wants of others/Others and my own wants.

Our strengths and weakness are elements of who we are along the same continuum.  This has been said by like a 100 gazillion people, but I’ll give a nod to Ralph Waldo Emerson (“Our strength grows out of our weaknesses.”) because that seems fancy and intellectual.  I have a history which has shaped me into an empathetic, nurturing, giving, “nice” kind of guy (among my many wonderful qualities).  This “niceness” byproduct of my history oozes out across all areas of my life and is part of my best self, and is the source of a significant challenge for me when it comes to RAK.  Part of the history which hand-crafted this gloriously complicated human involved interacting over many years with some important people in my life who were struggling with their own histories such that they were Bottomless Pits of Want. Their very human and understandable drive to fill that empty wanting place creates an intensely lonely isolation and desperate hunger that interferes with the belonging and connection they fundamentally need. Now picture pouring pitchers of water into a sieve, trying to fill it, and, because you are an empathetic, nurturing, giving, “nice” kind of human, you do this for years, decades.

Too melodramatic? It is hard to find the right balance.  Your patience is appreciated, and your abandonment of this post would be understandable

Why does this matter for what we are talking about?  What does this have to do with RAK? Oh, my bad.  I thought the connection was obvious.  This has to do with RAK because there are some people whose wants and needs are massive, huge icebergs floating through the shipping lanes of our daily lives.  Some are easy to spot (the homeless), others more difficult (pretty much anyone we might encounter).  Of course RAK is not about rescuing people or in any way trying to fill Bottomless Pits, but being fully present often means becoming aware and acknowledging on some level that there are abandoned, neglected, hideous, wolfish children under the Ghost of Christmas Present’s robes.  So, for me, there is both the reminder of sadness of futile attempts to fill a sieve and of the pain that remained for that person with the Bottomless Pit, and the sting that comes from stepping into someone else’s day and sensing the depth of the iceberg below the water line.  I think I am mixing my metaphors, but hopefully you will kindly stack them into neat piles for me.

My own wants?  Yeah……. undoubtedly there are issues here that RAK will continue to raise (Oh, goody! Another valuable growth experience), but this is a start (Thanks, Mr. Dickens!).  Want- abject, frightful, hideous child.  Think about people in your life who are on the Bottomless Pit end of the spectrum.  What descriptors come to mind? Don’t worry, you don’t need to tell anyone what those descriptors are, so please be honest. How about this one; imagine a friend is telling you about someone they think might be a good person for you to date.  They are attractive, smart, funny, nice, have a great job, you share interests, oh, and they are needy (Insert noise of a loud buzzer). Right?  Nobody wants to be with someone needy and nobody wants to be needy, especially if you have had encounters with the child Want.  Being needy, being Want is a fast track to rejection and a one-way ticket to Dumpsville, population me. But 1) everyone has needs and wants, you can’t get around that, and 2) Our culture (notice I switched blame to our culture rather than my history?  Clever move on my part) doesn’t provide good role models for how to appropriately express needs and wants.  I double checked the Owner’s Manual for Being an Adult- nowhere does it define what constitutes being “needy.” How the fuck are we supposed to know if we are being needy or not?  A wise strategy then becomes to hide our wants (under the robes of the Ghost of Christmas Present seems a good place), which, as you already know, doesn’t make the needs and wants go away and leads to all kinds of spectacular relationship and human interaction disasters.  Insert feedback loop of crazy and dysfunction.

Let’s not forget that Want has a brother.  Want and Ignorance are a package.  What are we supposed to do?  I don’t have clue of what we supposed to do. Here is an important piece for me to learn from RAK.  This adventure involves being willing to interact with others by being open to the moment, humble and without expectations about my role in their day (and vice versa), and without judgment of whatever comes up inside me pre-, during and post interaction.

Ugh, this really doesn’t capture the depth of what I am trying to convey.  Maybe you could flesh it out in your head and shape it into something that communicates something important?  I would appreciate it. In the meantime I will continue working on finding ways to understand and describe this whole process, this something that RAK is stirring.

 

Fear of Acts of Random Kindness: Part One

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Lion Statue Profile 10-2014

Random Acts of Kindness: A one year challenge

I know a young woman who, along with her husband, has inspired me to attempt something which is much more difficult than it might seem.

Today I gave a small amount of money to a woman who was begging, then I stopped and talked with her for a few minutes. Not about anything important; the weather, that there seemed to be a lot of people out today, then wished each other well.  This could just be the yoga talking (I was leaving a class) because you know how that kind of thing cranks up your inner Damn Hippie, but it seemed to me that the few moments of talking was more valuable to her than the money…..nah, probably not.

Sustaining random acts of kindness across an extended period of time, at least as I have defined the RAK Challenge (which is all that counts, right?), requires being open to the world around us, and, the longer we try to to maintain RAK, the more open we become which is increasingly scary. The is no better way to find your painful, frightened, sore-to-the-touch, fragile spots (sort of like where you are ticklish and did not know it….only not) than to attend, really attend, to what others in the world are evoking from you, because often what is being evoked does not represent the best parts of who you would like to be.

Why do you move toward some people and away from others? I mean literally physically drift toward some people and away from others, as well as psychologically.  If I pay attention to my day, I notice that I have dozens and dozens of micro-engagements that normally I am only vaguely aware of, if at all.  There is Something comforting just beneath the surface that pulls and pushes me as I move through my world. It is like my whole day is made up of a game of “getting warmer, getting colder.” This Something does a pretty good job of making my world feel safe. I am moved toward the attractive, familiar and predictable, and away from the ugly, strange and unpredictable.  Ah, nice….  A buffered space to keep my world cozy, like a favorite old sweatshirt.  It doesn’t matter what I might miss out on (There might have been balloons and pony rides and one of those big Moon Bounce things)  as long as this Something keeps me from dealing with the ugly, strange and unpredictable because that might be dangerous.

So how does this fit into RAK?  As I noted above, RAK requires us to be open to the world.  If I am going to be aware of those who might benefit from an act of random kindness, I have to be prepared to move toward people and situations I might not normally move toward.  The Something and RAK cannot exist in the same space at the same time (Maybe it is like matter and anti-matter?  That would be cool and sciencey).  I find that if I want to be available for RAK, the Something cannot be driving how I navigate the day.  It takes effort on my part, sometimes significant effort, to actively choose to take myself on a different course than the quiet waters the Something steers toward. I have to be willing to sail into stormy seas where there be monsters. Which sounds like a horrible idea, yes? (The answer is: Yes, that sounds like a horrible idea).

I am mocking myself, which is half the fun of writing this blog, for leading a life often characterized by avoidance, but I am keenly aware of how destructive this has been, especially to the people I love the most.  I suspect letting the Something helps us avoid is the root of many bad things that happen in the world around us: violence, depression, cruelty, prejudice, judging, isolation from other people, thinking your coworker is a complete idiot who deserves bad things,… I get it.  I have known this for years, and to my credit (and I want credit here) I have been working on being different in the world for quite some time…..with mixed success.  Not to point fingers here, but avoidance and automatically defaulting to letting the Something dictate the course of the day is how the vast majority of us live our lives, but I am not pointing fingers. I don’t know what pushes and pulls you as you move through your day, but I do know mine.  My Something has a name, and that name is “Fear.”   Almost never is it screaming and running down the halls fear (almost never), but fear nonetheless.

There is a powerful but rarely appreciated scene in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol where the Ghost of Christmas Present pulls back his robe and reveals two emaciated and horrifying children: Ignorance and Want.  I think my Fear can be summarized by these two unwanted and neglected children. Let’s start with Ignorance, which Dickens warns us to be most afraid of, although personally Want is scarier to me.  I suspect most of us encounter people everyday who we perceive as ugly, strange and unpredictable (i.e., Danger, Danger, Danger!!), and we avoid them, walk away, walk around, don’t make eye contact, do not in anyway acknowledge them, do not in anyway acknowledge that they are a person.   These dangerous characters are everywhere!  The homeless, the mentally ill, the drug addicts, the street corner preachers, people on the Metro, driving to work, on the street corners, some of them even work in my building.  It becomes so easy to see these people as The Other.  Not part of me, not a member of my group, not even really another person, just an obstacle to be navigated around.  Tara Brach does a much better job than I ever can in talking about this (TaraBrach.com), but we’re not on her website right now, are we?

I do not know these creatures.  I do not want to know these creatures.  I am ignorant of their status as humans and prefer to keep it that way.  But then there is this fucking RAK thing. Damn it!!  Remaining ignorant prevents me from being fully present with this person, from stepping, even if just for a moment, into their world which may be full of suffering, whether they be the homeless guy by the stoplight, the cleaning woman who empties the trash, the coworker you think is a dick wad although you have never actually spoken with him.  Note I am not saying throw caution to the wind and chase after drug addicts down darkened alleyways (Wait, I can help!) or be completely vulnerable to untrustworthy people (Your coworker may in fact be a dick wad) or empty your wallet when the homeless guy asks for money (I suspect you need that money yourself).  For me a fundamental element of doing random acts of kindness is to be a smidge less ignorant regarding this creature that theoretically might be human, to listen when an Other talks, to make eye contact and say “hi” even when I don’t give the homeless guy money.  This is part of why I put on my Big Boy pants and stopped to talk to an ugly, strange and unpredictable homeless woman, instead of just scurrying by.

All of this may be completely irrelevant to you or anyone other than me, but for me another piece of the puzzle is falling into place, there is an understanding, still quite vague, that is taking shape.  What of the other orphan?  What of Want?  I will talk about her when I blog again, or perhaps I should quit while I am ahead.

RAK Before 7:00 AM

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Woods 2014-10

Random Acts of Kindness: A one year challenge

I know a woman who just had an important article published in the scientific journal Translational Medicine that highlighted how easy it is for people to dismiss other people as people, especially within the social media space: 1) Link to Article http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s13142-014-0256-1 2) Journal’s Press Release: http://www.springer.com/gp/about-springer/media/springer-select/fat-chats-the-good-the-bad-and-the-ugly-comments/35816 3) New York Times coverage: http://op-talk.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/10/03/shamed-flamed-harassed-what-its-like-to-be-called-fat-online/?_php=true&_type=blogs&_php=true&_type=blogs&_r=1&

I like to get up early in the morning.  I probably would have made a good farmer given that they are always up early milking the chickens and other farmer stuff.  When I wake up, I often feel like my brain is in a calm state of purring along in neutral.  If this lasts for more than a few minutes that is a special day that should be noted on the calendar.  Like an auditorium filling with students, thoughts about my day almost immediately begin to trickle in, as the seats fill so does the noise level.  Before long, the place is packed and noisy as thoughts about the day ahead come pouring in; tasks that must be addressed, crisis that need to be mediated, worries about the troubles of people I am close to, conflicts I need to step into and help resolve, responsibilities ahead and those I left un-dealt with from previous days, not to mention my own worries, sadness, anxiety and anger (who let those guys in?). When I have the wherewithal to attend to the process of this gathering, I am surprised and amused at how rapidly I can go from being calm and centered to completely engrossed in being projected into my day and far into my past.  If this were a marketable skill, you would be seeing me on the cover of Forbes, ooohh or perhaps winning an Olympic medal for sprinting away from being anything close to in the present moment, sort of an anti-Zen award.

I have been working on this “being present” shit for quite a while.  Incorporating RAK into my days has contributed to this Damn Hippie process as I must try to pay more attention (at least sporadically), to make an effort (and it is an effort for me) to be present.

A bit of context for the random act of kindness I am writing about today. I walk my dogs in the morning (they are complete wussies when it comes to heat).  For several years, before taking on this challenge, I have tried to pay attention while on these walks; I like walking in the woods, we often see cool things like deer (Yesterday a large owl sitting in a tree which, I cannot lie, was truly awesome!!).  But no matter how beautiful the woods, inspiring the sunrise, the day ahead barges in and demands attention. Sometimes these rude intrusions occur when my brain doesn’t even have anything to say and is just being obnoxious and flexing its distraction muscles.  For example, on this morning’s walk, the children’s song “As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with 7 wives….” was playing over and over again in my head. Seriously? Seriously?? Are you fucking kidding me? You couldn’t just enjoy the sunrise for a few moments?  St. Ives??

With this as backdrop, I want to point to a RAK from a few weeks back (Yes, remember I am so taking credit for RAKs I did in the weeks before I decided to tackle a whole year).  This was about a week after The Woman I Know had passed away. It was shortly after dawn and Etta and I were coming out of the woods and walking through part of our neighborhood.  We came upon a well-dressed woman who had just done a nice job of parking in her friend’s flowerbed. As she stood next to her car, assessing her handiwork, I said good morning to her.  She apologized for parking so poorly.  I said I hadn’t noticed (A lie) but I didn’t think it really mattered that much (A truth). We both (well actually the 3 of us because Etta stopped to smell the flowers or what was left of them) took a moment to look at the flower bed, and, in rapid disjointed sentences, her story gushed out.

Of all weird things, she was on her way to her best friend’s funeral in Philadelphia. Never a morning person, she was completely disorganized, kept losing her train of thought and just couldn’t get her shit together to actually leave town in order to be at the funeral on time.  She started crying and doing that hand-wavy-thing that some people do when they get really upset. Then she stopped crying, told herself to pull it together, then looked at me and told me she didn’t know what to do.

What did I do next?  Some heroic gesture like drive her to Philly?  Maybe go the other direction and steal her purse?  No, those things are outside the rules of RAK (not to mention just plain silly).  What I did do was tell her she was not alone in her pain.  I told her about the death of This Woman I know, her grieving husband and the large circle of friends who were struggling and hurting.  I told her that I understood how much this sucked, how awful this pain was.  I tried to squeeze as much being fully present with this person for this single moment as I possibly could. When Etta and I walked away, she called me her “angel” and said I saved her.  I laughed and told her to remember to breath.  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I am an Evil Genius, and I waited to turn the corner before doing a happy dance for completing my RAK for the day before 7:00 in the morning.

Our whole interaction lasted less than 5 minutes.  Our interaction didn’t take away her pain, didn’t fix this fucked up situation- nothing could do that.  I think it did reduce her isolation and spinning in her broken heart, even if for a short time.  I hope she thought of that moment throughout her awful day.  I have no clue if she did. For me, it was a powerful moment that has stayed with me and I continue to try to understand.

Although I most certainly wouldn’t have been rude, I would have kept walking after smiling and providing my initial socially acceptable lie-truth comment.  But the inspiration from the Woman I Know and her husband put me in a different space that morning, a space where I stopped to really take notice of another person, found them to be suffering, and then to fully be with them, even if for only a few minutes.

Maybe part of it is about not being so alone in our saddest (or happiest) moments?  Offering our courage to others who have run out because it feeds us all? And desperately hoping they will offer their courage to us when we run out of our own? I did warn you I have a propensity for the Hallmark moment and sappiness. Although, even if my words are headed for the script of a bad made-for-TV movie, I think there is something in what I am saying, something important, something that might be “true.”  Maybe this year of random kindness will help root out that “that” that my words fail to capture.  Or not.