Kindness. It is in a smile at the grocery store, holding a door for a stranger, or checking on a neighbour who’s been ill. Listening to a friend who needs to talk, reaching out to others just because, and going the extra mile at work are all acts of kindness too. It costs nothing, but is priceless.
We are kind when we give of ourselves when we don’t have to. We are generous when we expect nothing in return. The return on kindness is in being a decent human being. Your reward is knowing it is the right thing to do. The question is why more people don’t know that.
Those who give, don’t give in anticipation of medals or accolades. They are just the shining lights that inspire others to keep lighting the candles of goodness around them. Maybe they were the recipients of a small act that made a big difference or maybe they just inherently know that the only way to be treated well, is to treat others in the same way.
I have had people dig deep to make my life easier in dark days. Others have brightened my day by presenting a pie. A kind word, a thoughtful action; these things help me see the goodness in life and humanity. I try to recognize those acts, those moments, and imprint them on my outlook. It is called Grace.
Life can be pretty sweet if you see it that way.
I embrace you.
Send me your thoughts,
visions and dreams;
let’s see those possibilities…
Spinning my wheels
same old, same old — where’s my metanoia?
new year, new vision
it’s all in the twist,
all in the angle,
in my head.
spin . . .
Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing
~ Benjamin Franklin
It’s summertime. I could lie to you and tell you that I’m writing up a storm, but I’m not. I am off doing stuff; fishing, camping, swimming, etc. I am making memories and bonding with my children while they are still excited to spend time with me. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
If I am lucky, perhaps a story or two will come of our road trips, long summer nights, giggles with friends and family by fireside, or the quiet moments when we just lose ourselves in a book. That’s what I’m hoping, but I am perfectly content with just going with the flow. I keep up with client work and jot down a few lines here and there when I can, but some days it is just more important to do. Stories are born out of experience and that is what summer is for me.
So I take in theatre, attend summer festivals, and plan beach days for the hottest days of the week. But sitting in front of the computer and writing just doesn’t hold much appeal when life is outside my door.
After I am done ‘doing’, I will write the stories that come…
See you in September!
There are some days when the writing needs to wait. My mood may not be right, my children might be sick, a client could need to speak to me; whatever it is, the actual act of sitting down to the computer is temporarily put on hold.
This morning it was the fog. Thick, soupy, cloying; it matched my thoughts. And I had to disappear into the recesses of its curtains, if only to feel the touch of something on my skin.
These moments, this indulgence, it returns me to nature and redeems my soul. I step away from the everyday and quietly become one with a higher vibration. I don’t need to think in terms of SEO, re-tweetability, audience interest, or the likelihood of something being liked or shared. All I have to do is listen to the twitter of (real) birds, or the trickle of a stream. I can reach out to touch damp bark or smell the heady scent of moldering leaves trapped under rock-strewn paths. My senses come alive in the twilight edges of real life, far away from keyboards, cell phones, ping backs, and time.
But as the fog burns off, I return. There are emails to respond to, updates to post, and pics to share. The mist thins, but so too does the pall that clung to my soul. Funny how breathing in a little cool air refreshes an outlook. It works every time.