The Transforming Power of Kindness

Kindness is like snow. It beautifies everything it covers.

                —Kahlil Gibran

A few years ago, I was in New York City for a professional appointment. As it could lead to new work and a new job, I was dressed to impress, in suit, tie, topcoat, shined shoes, carrying a leather portfolio. After the interview, which went well, I realized I needed to reach Grand Central Terminal as quickly as I could in order to catch the early train home, and be able to enjoy the evening with my family. As I turned east onto Fourteenth Street and toward the subway, a homeless man stepped toward me, asking if I could spare money. In my hurry to reach the Terminal, I quickly said ‘No’ and kept walking, only to hear the man cursing at me, and making comments about my having money for nice clothes, but nothing to help anybody else.

I turned the corner, walked a few paces, stopped, and thought, ‘He’s right. Do I even have cash on me? If I don’t, I can find an ATM and give him something so he can eat.’ I stepped to the side of the bustling Holiday traffic in Union Square and checked to see what might be possible. I actually did have money, and so I took a $20 out of my wallet, retraced my steps around the corner, saw the man, and walked up and handed him the folded bill, and told him I hoped his evening would be a little better with this. I turned to make my way back to the subway station, but he gently put his hand on my shoulder, and asked, ‘What changed your mind?’ I was surprised at the action, not to mention the question, and asked him what he just said, as I wasn’t sure I heard correctly. He said, ‘I asked you for money, and you just said no and kept walking like everybody else. I just thought you were another jerk, but when you came back and gave me money, I had to know why.’ I told him, ‘I usually don’t carry cash with me, I have a train to catch, and just kept walking, not even thinking about what you said. And while I’ve heard cursing before, what I really heard was, ‘I need help. From you.’ So I had to see what I could do. That’s why I came back.’ He said ‘Thank you. For listening.’ We held each other’s eyes for a moment, and he said, ‘Don’t you have a train to catch?’ Which brought me back to where we were, and what was in front of me that evening. ‘Yeah, I do. You take care. And thank you for reminding me to listen.’ 

I walked through the throngs of Holiday shoppers, caught the subway, and made my early train home. Evening had fallen, and I had a long ride ahead of me, so I pulled out the novel I was reading at that time, and began to read, but not for long. The train had reached the countryside, and I just looked out the window at the landscape, as well as the snow flurries swirling, and realized I had, in the space of about two minutes, a significant meeting with another human being, one which started quickly, and in anger, but ended with a real connection with another. A man I may never see again, but one who touched me nonetheless, and brought me out of my own world of my own self-importance, and into the fold of humanity. Yes, it started with a curse, but looking back, perhaps those words were the lightning bolt I needed, reminding me to look around, see others, and be an active part of what the world is and what it presents—both good and bad—and do what we can to make it better than we found it, a little or a lot, for one person or many.

Listening for Compassion

Listening is often difficult. From the time we are children, hearing our parents telling us to listen to what they are saying, to sitting in classrooms, knowing we should be listening, but are not, to more dire situations where we are hanging onto every word because not listening at that moment could make the situation worse, we have trouble listening to others. And, we get annoyed when we realize others are not listening to us. The relationship of speaker and listener certainly affects our efforts at understanding what is being said: think of a boss speaking to one of her employees about the work at hand, a situation where the best course of action is to listen carefully and then ask questions about things we might not understand. Still, we all want to be heard and quite often, we are formulating our response to what we believe is being said before the other person is finished speaking. One person finishes, and the questions begin. ‘Can you clarify…?’ ‘I’m not sure I understand the purpose of that step…?’ ‘How does this relate to…?’ ‘Shouldn’t we call in accounting (etc.) for this…?’ The original speaker, somewhat puzzled, then replies, ‘I addressed that point when I said….’ The back-and-forth begins, and at some point a consensus is reached when both parties feel that they were both heard and understood.

How many of us experience this situation daily, and on multiple occasions? We are not trying to be difficult, but trying to understand what is being asked, and how we might help the person speaking. Each of us, however, has their own life, their own agenda, family, responsibilities, ambitions, hopes and prayers that we we never really forget about, even in a situation where our full attention is required for other things. Remembering that we have two ears and one mouth, and that the proportion of hearing to talking should probably follow the same ratio, is something we rarely remember in the heat of discussion. When we are engaged, we get excited about new challenges—whether at work or play—and our minds go into overdrive, thinking of the possibilities and figuring out how things will work with the new idea. This enthusiasm is fantastic! Now how to put things into action? Living in a world where we are always reachable, having grown accustomed to the ever-faster pace of life, though, we have lost some of the ability to slow down, reach a still point, and really think of how we will address the new challenge. Slowing down in order to more deeply listen opens our minds further, to see directions, solutions, and outcomes we might have missed in our readiness to begin a new activity. Historically, and from multiple disciplines and philosophies, the world’s greatest teachers, sages, and leaders all sought to withdraw, to slow down, to deeply think about what they were facing. Some faced political ruin, some imprisonment, while others faced certain death or exile. 

We rarely face this sort of dire outcome in our daily lives, but how to create the time and space to let ourselves really breathe, calm our minds, and make decisions on how to go forth? The answer: Go within. In freeing your mind, and allowing free-associations to come to you, suddenly problems and challenges are less daunting, and we are able to begin to see how, step-by-step, we can face what is confronting us. This can be done in many ways, but a few things come to mind when addressing this. First, journaling: putting our thoughts, fears, hopes, and so forth on paper with a pen lets us see physically what is occupying our thoughts, and we can then begin to create steps that might help solve these issues. Second, many people list things for which they are grateful to have in their lives: wife/husband, children, financial security, a good job, good friends, and so on. The beauty of this is that it can be done with a pen and paper, or simply sitting in a chair, vocally or mentally listing things for which they are grateful. A bonus of doing this, is that it is actually impossible to be grateful and angry or fearful at the same time. Others meditate to slow their lives, while others run long distances, as the physical action is what they need to calm and open their mind. Whatever you choose, if one of these, or something else entirely, and whether this activity begins or ends your day, or possibly refocuses you in the middle of the maelstrom, matters not. Giving yourself, as well as others around you, the time, space, and the consideration needed to center your mind, slow down, and begin to more deeply listen for answers that will ultimately help us to be more compassionate is just the beginning.