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Posted: June 21st, 2007 at 12:43am By: Adele Ryan McDowell
It was one of those perfect summer evenings. Rain had washed everything clean, and a soft breeze rippled through the trees. There was a sense of fun and play in the air. You could just feel yourself unwind.
And it was during these evening hours that the gods sent me a message. Sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake, so I didn't really comprehend that I was gifted with a message until days later. In fact, they sent me the same message twice — and within the span of a few hours. As I said, I can be a little thick.
The first incident, really more of a mild-mannered exchange, happened in this setting. My sister and I are taking a postprandial stroll around a sweet little town. There are families, couples, kids, dogs, bikes and strollers; everybody seems to be out and about enjoying the late light as it filtered its way onto the sidewalks. Young teens have set up their three- piece band and are playing familiar standards in front of the video and ice cream stores. These enterprising boys play surprisingly good music and help create a festive, holiday quality.
As my sister and I walk, we pass a woman who appears agitated. She is moving back and forth from something on the sidewalk to her purse and book, which are also on the sidewalk. The object of her attention is a crumpled mouse of a bird with a mangled wing. She wants to move the bird off the sidewalk to protect it from the parade of pedestrian foot traffic and the ever-sniffing dogs who might take this bird as an appetizing treat. The woman wants to accomplish her task without direct touch so as not to contaminate the bird with her human scent. (And, thereby, hopefully ensure that the mother bird will be free to rescue her wee one.)
We offer tissues, and the woman moves the bird into a ready-made nest of ivy in an elevated flower box. No sooner does the woman rescue the bird than a dog comes trotting by; we exchange glances and know, for that minute, at least, the bird has been saved.
In the scheme of things, one might argue this was not a big deal. It was a tiny act without a guaranteed outcome. But if you think about it, this woman stopped to rescue a living creature. If you accept the premise that we are all connected, does not her very act of caring charge the world with more positive energy and more light?
I know this woman changed me. I became more present. My heart expanded; it felt good to be able to help in such a minuscule way.
This makes me think of the concept of the Power of One, which is best exemplified by the image of a rock being thrown into a pool of still water. That one rock creates a ripple effect of many undulating waves. Each act of caring, compassion and kindness is like that rock; each act creates ripples of change. Each act makes a difference. Think of the cumulative effect of many acts of caring, compassion and kindness. The world would be more peace-filled and cooperative. I would argue that there would be less strife, greed and paranoia.
Blanche Dubois in "A Streetcar Named Desire" said she was forced "to rely on the kindness of strangers." Blanche, actually, wasn't too happy with her family, but the-kindness-of-strangers idea — is that such a bad thing? How comforting it must be to think of the world as a friendly, helpful place.
I think of the post-9/11 period in the tristate New York City metropolitan area. People were kinder and more caring. They let pedestrians cross the street, vs. run for their lives. There was an automatic outpouring of kindness. People offered help to one another in a myriad of ways. In fact, people were desperate to help. In helping one another, people felt more connected, less alone. There was solidarity of feeling; everyone was in this, this post 9/11 world, together. But as the area regained its equilibrium and the shock was absorbed, lives returned to more of their regular routines. People became more insular and self-absorbed.
And speaking of self-absorbed, let me relate my second incident of the evening, which was certainly more of a teaching tool for me.
I have just completed some grocery shopping and I am emptying the contents of my grocery carriage into the backseat of my car. There are three adults in the car next to me; they are having fun, eating ice cream cones and unloading their grocery cart as well into the back of their SUV. I push my carriage to the designated holding zone and return to my car, where one of the adults has wheeled his now-empty cart and placed it squarely in front of my driver's side door. I cannot get in my car. I say to the threesome, "Hey, this isn't fair." And I move the cart out of my way.
I'm a little miffed by their action. As I drive home, I realize fairness had nothing to do with it. It was a matter of kindness. They were not so nice, but, then again, I was not so nice as I pushed the offending cart out of my way and undoubtedly obstructed some other poor driver.
Someone wise once said, "Be kinder than necessary, for every one you meet is fighting some kind of battle." I like that, and I think it's true. It's also a very good reminder for me when I get up on my high horse and spout my righteous indignations. There are days when we are all a bit unconscious, wrapped up in self and unaware. It happens. I know I need a little slack on those days; assuredly others do too.
This makes me think of a story that Christel Nani, an ER nurse and medical intuitive, tells. She was driving to work early one morning and was nearly run off the road by another driver crazily speeding down the highway. She was enraged at his actions. She arrived at the hospital, was told there had been a terrible accident involving a mother and her children and immediately went to work assisting the accident victims. Later that morning, Nani went into the waiting room to talk to the family of the accident victims. There sat a man sobbing, his head in his hands. He was the husband and father of the accident victims; he was also the man who had nearly run her off the road.
The Dalai Lama has said, "Kindness is my religion." Isn't that great? That's a religion for me.
The word "religion" comes from the Latin religio, which means "to bind." This suggests that if our religion is, indeed, kindness, then we are bound and connected to one another through a loving, compassionate heart.
Just think: If our days and nights are filled with acts of kindness, then we are operating from wide-open, caring hearts. We are acting in godlike ways. We are, one by one, creating positive change in a world that can use all the positive change it can get. And in doing all this good stuff, we get to feel great about ourselves. Clearly, this is a win-win religion.
Care to join the congregation?
— — —
Dr. Adele Ryan McDowell, Ph.D., is a psychologist, empath and shaman who likes looking at life with the big viewfinder. Her email address is {email ARMCDOWELL@aol.com}ARMCDOWELL@aol.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Adele Ryan McDowell.
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It was one of those perfect summer evenings. Rain had washed everything clean, and a soft breeze rippled through the trees. There was a sense of fun and play in the air. You could just feel yourself unwind.
And it was during these evening hours that the gods sent me a message. Sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake, so I didn't really comprehend that I was gifted with a message until days later. In fact, they sent me the same message twice — and within the span of a few hours. As I said, I can be a little thick.
The first incident, really more of a mild-mannered exchange, happened in this setting. My sister and I are taking a postprandial stroll around a sweet little town. There are families, couples, kids, dogs, bikes and strollers; everybody seems to be out and about enjoying the late light as it filtered its way onto the sidewalks. Young teens have set up their three- piece band and are playing familiar standards in front of the video and ice cream stores. These enterprising boys play surprisingly good music and help create a festive, holiday quality.
As my sister and I walk, we pass a woman who appears agitated. She is moving back and forth from something on the sidewalk to her purse and book, which are also on the sidewalk. The object of her attention is a crumpled mouse of a bird with a mangled wing. She wants to move the bird off the sidewalk to protect it from the parade of pedestrian foot traffic and the ever-sniffing dogs who might take this bird as an appetizing treat. The woman wants to accomplish her task without direct touch so as not to contaminate the bird with her human scent. (And, thereby, hopefully ensure that the mother bird will be free to rescue her wee one.)
We offer tissues, and the woman moves the bird into a ready-made nest of ivy in an elevated flower box. No sooner does the woman rescue the bird than a dog comes trotting by; we exchange glances and know, for that minute, at least, the bird has been saved.
In the scheme of things, one might argue this was not a big deal. It was a tiny act without a guaranteed outcome. But if you think about it, this woman stopped to rescue a living creature. If you accept the premise that we are all connected, does not her very act of caring charge the world with more positive energy and more light?
I know this woman changed me. I became more present. My heart expanded; it felt good to be able to help in such a minuscule way.
This makes me think of the concept of the Power of One, which is best exemplified by the image of a rock being thrown into a pool of still water. That one rock creates a ripple effect of many undulating waves. Each act of caring, compassion and kindness is like that rock; each act creates ripples of change. Each act makes a difference. Think of the cumulative effect of many acts of caring, compassion and kindness. The world would be more peace-filled and cooperative. I would argue that there would be less strife, greed and paranoia.
Blanche Dubois in "A Streetcar Named Desire" said she was forced "to rely on the kindness of strangers." Blanche, actually, wasn't too happy with her family, but the-kindness-of-strangers idea — is that such a bad thing? How comforting it must be to think of the world as a friendly, helpful place.
I think of the post-9/11 period in the tristate New York City metropolitan area. People were kinder and more caring. They let pedestrians cross the street, vs. run for their lives. There was an automatic outpouring of kindness. People offered help to one another in a myriad of ways. In fact, people were desperate to help. In helping one another, people felt more connected, less alone. There was solidarity of feeling; everyone was in this, this post 9/11 world, together. But as the area regained its equilibrium and the shock was absorbed, lives returned to more of their regular routines. People became more insular and self-absorbed.
And speaking of self-absorbed, let me relate my second incident of the evening, which was certainly more of a teaching tool for me.
I have just completed some grocery shopping and I am emptying the contents of my grocery carriage into the backseat of my car. There are three adults in the car next to me; they are having fun, eating ice cream cones and unloading their grocery cart as well into the back of their SUV. I push my carriage to the designated holding zone and return to my car, where one of the adults has wheeled his now-empty cart and placed it squarely in front of my driver's side door. I cannot get in my car. I say to the threesome, "Hey, this isn't fair." And I move the cart out of my way.
I'm a little miffed by their action. As I drive home, I realize fairness had nothing to do with it. It was a matter of kindness. They were not so nice, but, then again, I was not so nice as I pushed the offending cart out of my way and undoubtedly obstructed some other poor driver.
Someone wise once said, "Be kinder than necessary, for every one you meet is fighting some kind of battle." I like that, and I think it's true. It's also a very good reminder for me when I get up on my high horse and spout my righteous indignations. There are days when we are all a bit unconscious, wrapped up in self and unaware. It happens. I know I need a little slack on those days; assuredly others do too.
This makes me think of a story that Christel Nani, an ER nurse and medical intuitive, tells. She was driving to work early one morning and was nearly run off the road by another driver crazily speeding down the highway. She was enraged at his actions. She arrived at the hospital, was told there had been a terrible accident involving a mother and her children and immediately went to work assisting the accident victims. Later that morning, Nani went into the waiting room to talk to the family of the accident victims. There sat a man sobbing, his head in his hands. He was the husband and father of the accident victims; he was also the man who had nearly run her off the road.
The Dalai Lama has said, "Kindness is my religion." Isn't that great? That's a religion for me.
The word "religion" comes from the Latin religio, which means "to bind." This suggests that if our religion is, indeed, kindness, then we are bound and connected to one another through a loving, compassionate heart.
Just think: If our days and nights are filled with acts of kindness, then we are operating from wide-open, caring hearts. We are acting in godlike ways. We are, one by one, creating positive change in a world that can use all the positive change it can get. And in doing all this good stuff, we get to feel great about ourselves. Clearly, this is a win-win religion.
Care to join the congregation?
— — —
Dr. Adele Ryan McDowell, Ph.D., is a psychologist, empath and shaman who likes looking at life with the big viewfinder. Her email address is {email ARMCDOWELL@aol.com}ARMCDOWELL@aol.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Adele Ryan McDowell.
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