It’s Sunday night and Gertrude is glued to the presidential debates. She refuses to cede control of the remote, captivated by all that mean-spirited, third grade bathroom talk and name calling. “It’s turning your mind into a cesspool,” I tell her. Gertrude nods, acknowledging a certain truth to my anguish. But still, she’s adamant. She’s studying grandiosity, she tells me, schooling herself on narcissism. She’s even got her notebook out, making a list. “Listen up,” she says. “You’ll learn a lot about how to be successful.”
This current state of affairs keeps me up at night, agonizing over the lessons we’re absorbing through the airwaves about success and how to get along in the world.
Like many, I’m drawn to the news—whether it’s the primary campaign or other so-called newsworthy items. The drama is compelling, often entertaining, capable of instantly subverting our attention from anything else that might be worthy of our consideration.
It reminds me of a Zen story I heard some years ago. Two monks are walking along the road. It is raining and the path is muddy. The monks come upon a watery crossing and a young woman who is unable to continue on her way without getting her long cloak muddy. The older monk offers to carry the woman across the channel. On the other side of the rivulet, the woman and the monks go their separate ways and the monks walk on in silence. Some miles down the road, the younger monk erupts in anger. “How could you have lifted her up? You know that touching women is forbidden.” The older monk turns to him and says, “Yes, but I put her down on the other side of the river.”
Like the young monk, it seems decidedly easier to cling to the past, and point out others’ imperfections, expending futile energy turning those thoughts over and over in our minds, basking in a false claim to superiority. I, too, find myself committing the same pointless exercise. Deep hurts from long ago, perceived slights reenacted. Often with a misplaced sense of satisfaction.
Kindness, on the other hand, requires an inward gaze, and the willingness to evaluate our missteps, the moments we were thoughtless or arrogant or insensitive. It means leaving ourselves open and vulnerable, admitting our faults, letting go of a facade of correctness. Kindness requires vigilance and never-ending practice.
Maya Angelou once said, “It takes courage to be kind.”
If only Ms. Angelou had run for office. Think of the lessons we could have learned.
Thank you for voicing so many of my thoughts during this unnerving election year. What a refreshing perspective Elie.
Thanks Ann. I’d been mulling it over for a while and then came across the Maya Angelou quote. The link in my post is to an interview with Ann Curry–worth watching.
So timely and beautiful!!! I love reading your writing Elie! Thank you!
Thanks Lina! Hope you’re well.
Beautiful thoughts — thank you. And, I would add that kindness makes us vulnerable – not always a comfortable place to be.
This is one of my favorites. We certainly would all be better off with more kindness in this world. The student speaker at the Duke graduation this last week said “While Duke pushes us to be great, as human beings we must also be good.” Very fitting for our times.
Maybe we will need to count on the next generation 🙂
It’s the voice in the willows that carries the longest echo. — Marvin
Well said Marvin. Better than “the squeaky wheel…”
Another great read. Thanks, Elie. It reminds me of something else – that it also takes courage to forgive!
So true about forgiveness. Picturing you reading the post over a cup of coffee :-).