Kindness

Kindness takes many forms, doesn't it? And I can miss it. It gallops by sometimes when I am focussing on past unkindness, the sort that slaps you in the face from loved ones, trusted loved ones.

So awareness. A long time ago, a cousin mailed me a treasured book on awareness. The waking up to spirit, to the world around, to truth, to reality. I open it now and again and reflect on its messages.

Awareness to kindness. Not taking for granted even the smallest act or loving words. To really see and savour.

My washing machine is on the blink. It can manage small loads but not sheets and towels. It gets overwhelmed and won't spin. It galls me that it is only 6 years old, purchased with a legacy from an aunt. And I already spent ill-afforded cash on a repairman who couldn't fix it but had to charge me for his time. So as I save up for another, Daughter takes my sheets and towels. Very kind, you think. But more than that, and this brings me to tears: every single item is folded so neatly and perfectly and put into cardboard boxes so they stay that way. You have to know that Daughter is not a folder. I am and Other Daughter is. I'm talking sheets, pillowcases, towels. Folded perfectly by a non-folder. Kindness.

And Friend. I can't count the number of times she's dropped off tasty soups, stews, muffins and a book along with loving words and cheery predictions about life once I get back into the saddle of it but take all the time I want.

And others who assure me: "I know what you're going through. I've been there."

I posted this on my BFF's FB memory page today. One of her daughters is now the head off her - as we say back home - so much so that my heart skips a beat when I see her photos. That is the legacy for some, the faces of their mothers or fathers on them to light a candle of hope or elicit a cry of anguish for the observer depending on the day that's in it.

30 Days - Day 4

You could ask me why I like this picture so much and I couldn't tell you. Maybe it's a reminder that rarely do I reflect what this image projects.

Then again, I can look at it and think solitary is the best place to be. I'm becoming more risk adverse as I grow older.

Not to the risk of events or ventures or exploration or new directions. No.

But to high risk people. Some people are just not safe to be around - for this elder anyway.

I hang with the loving and kind.

Blog Jam

Yeah, I deleted a post. Why? It felt really incomplete even though I had stroked it and stroked it as us writers do. It was missing some element that I couldn't quite nail and I took it down to work on it some more. It's a hugely important topic for us emigrants and I need to do it more justice before publishing it. Thanks to those of you who responded to it in depth both on the blog and in private emails. I am never alone in these horrible, painful episodes of my life.

But? I found a cure!

Seriously.

When in pain from unkindness I've found that if I transform this into kindness to others it eases the load. Tremendously.

So that's what I did today. I wrote a few letters, made a few long overdue phone-calls, mailed a few gifts and some of my cards and projected out into the universe peace and healing to those who hurt me. Tons of it. There's really no more room in my life, at my age, for inflicted pain and grief and hurt and sorrow. I fill it up with love. Remind me of this statement when I'm less forgiving please.

And, interesting wee bit, I heard from this older man (yeah, older than me!), a retired policeman from Co. Clare and he starts off by saying:

"I've read every word you've ever written for years and years and years and I want to be your friend."

I just love it when lurkers make themselves visible.

Jack, if you're reading this, bravo my new friend!