Tag: kindness matters

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stitching it together

I spent my weekend split between writing and watching whatever random thing caught my attention on Netflix/Prime/Disney/Hulu while crocheting. I’ve had trouble finding a pattern I liked for a sweater I want to make, so I’m embarking on the path of creating one. Not sure how that’s gonna work, but I’m giving it a go.

In what I was watching…Saturday was an afternoon of movies on Netflix. I enjoyed “What Happened to Monday” which is a near future sci-fi sort of thing involving a world where the law dictates one child per family and a set of identical septuplets. I also watched a biopic on Helen Reddy. Like I said, it was all very random.

Yesterday though I indulged in a marathon of “Whitechapel” which was a British cop show a few years back.

I needed the break from the onslaught of news.

My usual outlet for finding my center on the dark days used to be helping others, usually with buying breakfast for some homeless folks or giving away stuff I’ve made, but since I’m not leaving the house, that path is not open to me. I think maybe that’s part of what has made this time so dark for me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still giving, it’s just at a distance these days which kind of minimizes the internal reaction I get from a stranger’s smile or from talking with someone who most people ignore.

Creating is what is getting me through though, whether I’m crafting with words or with yarn or with paints and oil pastels. It also helps to have work during the week. It gives me focus.

Right now I need to focus on getting coffee and breakfast into me before my first conference call of the day. Happy Monday, Readers! Lets make it the best we can in these circumstances. Stay home if you can. Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Keep your distance. Be kind.

Cover Photo by Olliss on Unsplash

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#vote

Tomorrow is the big day. Election day. We’ve seen record breaking turn outs to early voting and absentee/mail in voting, but that is no reason to get complacent. It is our duty, as American citizens, and in a time like ours not one of us can take that duty lightly.

This election cycle is more make or break than any I can remember. In the last four years our country has become more divided, more broken than I have ever seen. We are divided racially, ethnically, politically, religously and by hatred. In many cases it is a hatred that has been foisted upon us, or drug out of our inner psyche to be put on display.

Somehow, we’ve given permission to our baser selves to be brazenly angry about differences, about changes and about something as simple a concept as equality. We seem to find it easier to demonize those we see as enemies, call them names and deny them basic human dignity.

But we shouldn’t make ourselves feel better about ourselves at the expense of others. We don’t need to deny other people rights to keep those rights for ourselves. As someone once said, it isn’t pie.

I’ve seen more racism, ageism, ableism, sexism and hate of the LGBTQ+ community in the last four years than I can actually believe existed four years ago. Hate is contagious, and it is spreading faster than the coronavirus.

But tomorrow we have the ability to stand up and make it known that hate has no home here. It might be our last chance.

I won’t elaborate on all the various ways the person who is supposed to be leading us has instead worked to destroy us, there are plenty of other people doing that. Instead, my focus is on healing us, as a country. Our first step is to vote out those who foster and stoke the fires of hate, who pit us against each other so we won’t notice that they are robbing us blind.

Vote as if your life depended on it, because it might. Vote as if your BIPOC neighbors lives depend on it, because they do. Vote as if your gay brother’s marriage is on the line, because it is. Vote, not with the hate they want you to feel, but with the love you have for your family and your country.

If you haven’t already cast your vote, I hope you have a plan to get to the polls tomorrow. I hope you make it a priority in your day.

Above all, I wish you kindness and joy, Readers. Kindness and joy.

Cover Photo by Glen Carrie on Unsplash

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vote

For Pagans, Samhain (Halloween) is often considered our “new year”. It is a time of reflection and remembrance, and a time to look forward to what the new year might bring us. It seems fitting then that what follows Samhain is an election…an election that will decide the course of our country for the next four years.

Like many Americans, I am hopeful for a change to happen, specifically a change toward a kinder nation. In recent years I’ve watched in dismay as anger and fear has swept our country, racism and bigotry exploding out of the dark spaces where it has lain hidden for decades.

I am a person who believes that we are called upon to care for our fellow human beings, and that healthcare, food and housing should be a fundamental right.

I implore you to vote. Vote for a kinder world. Vote for candidates that will bring us forward, not backward.

I love you, Readers! Have a wonderful Wednesday.

Cover Photo by Kari Sullivan on Unsplash

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the autumn of innocence

I was born in September. I don’t know if that has any bearing on my love for autumn, but I like to believe it does. In my Upstate New York childhood, autumn meant new school clothes and supplies (I still love new notebooks and pens and markers and folders and, and, and…), the smell of dry leaves and cider, and the excitement of Halloween. The highlight of October was the annual trip to Kelly’s Farm to pick out our pumpkins and get fresh brewed cider and old fashioned donuts.

While the innocence of that time has gone, and the world is a different place today than it was then, there is a certain wonder to the autumn months still. I sometimes miss the New York autumns, especially here in California where we basically get two seasons, Summer and Not-Summer. Sure we have leaves on the ground and the mornings and nights are cooler, and sometimes even cold, but the true fall colors don’t happen here, unless you travel up into the mountains.

We’re into the time of year here that means long pants and long sleeves in the morning, tank tops and shorts by noon and the air conditioner in the late afternoon. I go to bed with the fan blowing and not even the sheet pulled over me and wake up under blankets chilled.

Last night I refreshed my altar for my ancestors as sort of an invitation. The veil between worlds is thinning as we approach Samhain and I welcome them to visit.

Samhain, and Halloween for that matter, will be different this year, I imagine. For me it is usually a quiet holiday, being the my front door doesn’t face the street, but just the sheer number of newly dead this year…loved ones to be remembered and honored…changes the tenor of the day. This was true for me the Samhain after 9/11, and this is so much more, so many more dead, and many of them left this world bereft of human touch, without the ones they loved by their side.

On that somber note, I wish each of you a lovely week and the kindness and compassion that changes lives. I’m off for more coffee and to log into work. May this autumn be one of a better harvest.

Cover Photo by Dennis Buchner on Unsplash

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black lives matter. period.

There seems to be a sense of expectation hanging in the air, at least here for me. Some of that is the fact that after months of unemployment, I will be starting not one new job on Monday, but two! I pretty much won’t have a life here for a while, but neither of them pay what I’m accustomed to and combined they might just let me climb up out of the hole I find myself in financially.

Add to that confirmation that an event I had been looking forward to in August is still happening (at least at this moment…who knows what the future will bring…but it IS in Texas, so…yeah, no idea how that will affect things), and I am cautiously hopeful.

With so much wrong in this country right now, with death and dismay all around us, it feels good to have something to look forward to. But, we have to remember, this pandemic isn’t gone. And, we are sure to see spikes in the numbers going forward, with so many bodies out there protesting, with businesses opening, with so many people just acting as if now that we have a new threat, the old one is gone.

People are still dying of this virus. Which in no way means that I do not support the protests or my black brothers and sisters. I totally understand their choices, because if your choice is a slow, agonizing death or a fight to prevent senseless, violent death? I’d choose the latter every time.

I wish I had what it took to be out there with them, but I’ll be honest, between my agoraphobia and my immuno-compromised system, I break out in a cold sweat just looking at the pictures on my TV.

My new jobs will help me stay home too, since they’re both work from home. It means a lot of stuff I might normally be doing gets put on hold, such as writing. Today and tomorrow might actually be the last few days I have to get words out of my head and down on paper for the next few months.

So I should probably get on that…and make more coffee! Remember, Black Lives Matter. Kindness Matters. Love Matters.

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just promise me no zombies

With allergy season in full swing here in Northern California, it can be hard to convince folks that I’m not “sick” and that it is “just allergies”. My eyes are constantly itching and watering. I’m so congested and my sinuses so swollen that my face is puffy. And to make the whole trifecta, there is the asthma reaction to trying to do almost anything when my hayfever is like this. That means a dry, hacky cough.

Want to guess who gets ALL of the dirty looks when I venture beyond my driveway?

Granted, I’m not venturing much or far. I’ve done most of my grocery shopping by delivery, making the most of Safeway’s two hour windows. There are some things you can’t get delivered though…or at least, not at a price I’m willing to pay.

And I am willing to pay for the convenience of delivery most of the time. I just try to do it without it costing a fortune, and I try to avoid the apps, and rely on stores that do their own delivery.

But, when the prescriptions are ready, I need to venture out, and I try to use the occasion to pick up those things that I can’t get on order…the stuff you just “luck” across, like the yeast I found in the bakery section last week when I had to be in Safeway to pick up a prescription.

I’ve also turned to bartering. I scored some bread flour from a neighbor, and some ginger from another neighbor this week. Traded a bottle of olive oil for the flour, and some garlic for the ginger. All with proper social distancing…drop the item on the porch, retreat to road…they make the swap, and once inside, I go back up to the porch and retrieve my item.

Right now there is bread dough in my fridge getting all ready to go into the oven later today. I’m using this super simple, 4 ingredient, no kneading recipe for a rustic sort of artisan loaf. I’m going to trade it for a bottle of wine from my sister-in-law.

I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of terrified of what is to come. We’re opening ourselves back up way too quickly and if “they” think the economy was hurting due to people staying home, imagine how much more it’s going to hurt when more and more people are dead or dying?

We aren’t going to have to wait for a second wave in the fall. So, if this is the start of the apocalypse, best dust off those gardening and bartering skills now.

I only hope that we don’t see mutations in the virus, or this and that virus coming together to form an even deadlier one…or give us zombies. I can manage everything but zombies.

Happy Friday, Readers. Be kind to one another. Be kind to yourself.

Cover Photo by Dark Labs on Unsplash

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boys and girls, women and men

I’ve been thinking a lot about my language around gender, and how much of those ingrained throw away phrases are dependent on a very binary, very uneven understanding of what gender is.

We could start with the idea that seems to permeate at least American culture that you can use the words “girl” and “woman” almost synonymously, but try that with “boy” and “man” and at the very least you’ll get shouted at (unless it’s a playful “one of the boys” type thing), because the somehow that’s insulting.  Of course, more and more women are correcting people when they say “girl” and aren’t speaking about someone under eighteen.  Of course, it works the other way too, especially when we’re implying that the person is complicit in some illegal or unsavory situation, like when reporting on sexual assaults, a girl of sixteen will be called a woman because that way the crime is less heinous (insert Law & Order SVU opening monologue here).

Even in my own self speak I find myself calling myself “girl” especially when I’m talking negatively about myself.  I’m fifty-one years old, I left girldom behind a fair few years ago.  I don’t let anyone else call me girl, but I do it to myself all the time.

Being a part of the LGBTQ+ community, and having a niece who is transgender, I find myself becoming more and more aware of this language we have as a set default, this binary man & woman thing that is so much a part of how we talk, how we think that it’s in our idioms, in our daily language with each other.  We throw the words around without thinking about what we are saying.

Just yesterday on Facebook, I posted some…let’s call them reminders about who I am and what I believe, and one of the points was in reference to pregnancy and abortion.  A friend called me out on my gendered language, because, as they pointed out, transmen and non-binary folks can get pregnant as well as cis women.  But in the moment of writing most passionately about abortion being a health decision made by the pregnant person and their doctor, I let that old programming flow.

I know a lot of people have trouble with pronouns and gender now that those among us who are transgender or non-binary no longer feel the need to hide themselves inside the cis paradigm, and even someone like me, who fully supports an expansive idea of what gender is, can get it wrong like I did yesterday.

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep trying though, and keep working at the de-internalization of those ideas, keep correcting yourself when you slip up, and take the correction from others when it comes.

Respect is Kindness, and Kindness Matters.

That ended up being a bit deeper than I first expected, but it is an important conversation to have.  Happy Saturday, Readers!  I am off to write and drink more coffee!

 

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

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kindness matters

I live in a fairly affluent little city in the San Francisco Bay Area’s east bay.  It’s the kind of place where we have stand alone Williams Sonoma, Nordstrom and Neiman Marcus stores, a boutique-y place that sells $60 pajama pants and $159 sweaters, more restaurants than you could sample in a month, and a certain attitude.  Lots of pedestrians, lots of good doggos that you’ll meet while you’re out walking.

Most of the time, I don’t mind.  If nothing else, it makes for good people watching.  I like posting myself up at some cafe’s outdoor table and greeting all the puppies taking their humans out for walks. I imagine stories for the grumpy old man at the corner table and the young couple holding hands as they cross the street, and the baby trying desperately to get his daddy’s attention.

However, the whole tone of things changes as Thanksgiving approaches.  There are certain stores you can’t get near.  Michael’s might as well be on Mars, with it’s very small parking lot that it shares with a Bed, Bath and Beyond.  The place where I normally get my nails done has joined that chaos.  To be fair, it shares a parking lot with a Sports Basement, two gyms, a dry cleaners, acupuncture place, a TJ Maxx, about a dozen restaurants and coffee shops, etc.  I got there around noon on Saturday and there was no parking, with as many as ten cars circling just the one section closest to the nail salon.

Sadly, it isn’t just parking lots.  The streets are full of cars bullying their way through streets, nearly taking out pedestrians, making illegal turns, laying on their horns in an obnoxious manner, etc.  The pedestrians are little better: taking up the whole sidewalk and not letting others get by them, looking at their phones and nearly knocking over others, huddling around the door to a cafe so that no one can get in or out, let alone get around them, etc.

Normally, this behavior doesn’t start until after Thanksgiving, but it came early this year.  This is why I do most of my shopping online these days.  It is also why I don’t even leave my house on Black Friday.

I use Black Friday as Pay it Forward Day.  It is when I do my end of the year giving.  This year, I intend to donate to Heifer International and probably fund a loan or two on Kiva.org. I will probably also make a donation to a local food bank or charity giving gifts to underprivileged kids.  Far better use of my time and dollars than the further commercialization of our holiday season.

Remember that a little kindness goes a long way.  When you find yourself stressed and frustrated with the people around you, be kind.  Let your small acts of kindness lift you out of your bad mood.  And you may not see it, but it will spread out from you.  This is how we change the world, Readers.

Kindness Matters!

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common courtesy

When you ride the same train every day, stand in the same spot to wait for it, you tend to get to know the people who also ride the same train every day and stand in the same line to wait for it.  You also get to know the peculiarities of that station’s particular etiquette.

For example, the spot where I wait, we line up along the yellow line, rather than from the yellow line back, because there is only a small area behind us before the bench and the wall, and when the line gets long, it can block people from getting past us down the platform.

Sometimes, we get someone who either isn’t really paying attention, or is accustomed to other ways of standing in line.  Normally, we give them a few minutes to realize where the line is, and if they don’t seem to get it, we kindly tell them where the line is.

Normally, they say something like “Oh, sorry,” and they move. Sometimes they ignore us.  This morning, there was a man who was standing behind those of us already in line.  As per our usual, one of our regulars smiled and let him know where the line ended.

His response was borderline hostile.  He said, “Who cares?” and took a step closer.  So we tried to explain the reason the line was formed to the right, and he continued to be aggressive.  It didn’t matter what we said, all efforts to be polite and friendly led to him getting angrier and angrier until he finally cussed at us and told us we “better just drop it,” in a threatening tone.

When the train finally came, he parked himself in an accessible seat, put on a pair of sunglasses and ignored anyone and everyone.   The whole encounter left me feeling crappy, so I stopped into Starbucks and picked up four coffees (because I couldn’t carry more than that), then handed the cashier my Starbucks card and said to use it for the next however many people the balance would cover.

On my way out I loaded up with creamers and sugars and went on about my way to work, gifting coffees to the first four homeless people I came across.  By the time I got to the office, I felt so much better. I hope someone buys that bitter man a coffee today, or otherwise gives him a kindness that will improve his outlook.  Six AM is far too early to be that angry already.

Happy Wednesday, Readers!  Kindness Matters!  Pass it on!

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kindness matters

The guiding principle that I follow is simple: Kindness Matters.

From the tiny gestures like holding the elevator for someone, or a smile in passing to the bigger gestures like buying coffee or lunch for someone to the grandiose gestures, like paying off someone’s debt or buying someone a car…it all matters.

I try to infuse my life with that kindness, to live each and every day thinking about kindness first.  I started to think this way years and years ago, and with each passing day I get better at it.

I still have unkind thoughts, that’s just human, but when I do, I stop myself and think about what is driving that thought.  Usually, it isn’t because of anything someone else has said or done.  Nearly always it is because I am being cranky.  I generally treat it by doing something kind for someone else.

Funny thing is, it works.

I am a happier person in general since I adopted this notion, since I brought kindness first into my life.  I can’t pay off anyone debts (including my own) in a grand sweeping notion, but I can buy the homeless guy trying to stay dry and warm in the nearly endless rain we’re experiencing now a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich.  I’m not buying anyone a car anytime soon, but I can knit or crochet hats and scarves for people on the street.  I can bake cookies to take to work to share, even though I can’t have any.  I can hold the elevator door for the mother with two toddlers and a stroller and a diaper bag and briefcase on her way to the daycare on the 2nd floor.

I can also accept people for who they present themselves to be, faults and flaws and all, and love them for who they are.  I can offer the people around me the permission to be themselves, wholly and completely simply by being myself wholly and completely.  This is why I generally have no filter.

I am not ashamed of who I am:  Fat, 50, geeky, kinky, dorky, thinky, cis-gendered female (with all that implies…boobs, periods, mood swings, hot flashes, etc), agoraphobic, socially awkward.  I don’t hide much, I don’t keep much private, even though others think I should.

It’s a kindness I give to the world around me in the hope that one day we will stop being ashamed of things in which there should be no shame.  There’s enough pain and shame and blame and misery in this world.  No need to invent more.

So, on this rainy Wednesday, give yourself permission to be you, and remember that kindness really does matter.  It can change lives.  It changed mine.

 

 

Photo by Robert Baker on Unsplash