In a recent post I explored a few ways to practice kindness on a daily basis. What I failed to mention is that I sometimes limit my kindness–and I wish I didn’t have to.
Six years ago when I was living in NYC, I met two middle-aged men at a Times Square Internet Café who were homeless. They were bright; in fact, they operated an online software help company that had once been a promising business. After 9-11, they lost their funding and clients, and decided to go for broke–to stay in NYC, despite their dwindling funds, and put everything into the company. When I met them, they were thousands in the hole and close to having their servers shut down.
I could relate to being destitute and determined. I’d blown all my money on a work-from-home business that failed, and had just moved into a single room occupancy building where my entire living space totaled 49 square feet. I was struggling and a little lost. But I had yoga to keep me focused and a whole lot of heart to keep my going. It would take a lot more than debt and unemployment to make me pack my bags and run home.
At a recent family gathering two family members got in a fight that ended with screams and tears. Though it doesn’t happen often nowadays, I grew up around similar chaos. Oftentimes I drowned it out, but sometimes I fueled it–and other times I caused it. Then I discovered a few Buddhist principles that changed the way I acted and reacted. I learned to offer compassion instead of judgment–to diffuse hostility with understanding and kindness. When I saw how profoundly that affected my state of mind and everyone around me, I decided to practice and get better at it.
