3. It's never too late to change how we look at our lives, our friends, the strangers who cross our paths, the many we barely noticed in years gone by. They too had messages.
4. Someone will still try to reach you with a message you need. Be alert!
5
Say Something Kind or Nothing at All
Mother Teresa says be kind to everyone, and start with the person standing next to you. I love the simplicity of that suggestion. Don't you? We aren't asked to evaluate anything about the person. Her dress, his fingernails, the frown or the easy smile. The sound of her voice isn't the determiner of our reaction. Nor is what he says to us or to anyone else. Very simply, just be kind. No matter what.
As I age, I appreciate Mother Teresa's words even more. I think we all want meaningful lives. We all want to look back as well as forward with a sense of peace about how we have lived and how we intend to live as the days ahead turn into weeks and years. Regrets? Of course I have some. But they will be fewer if I apply Mother Teresa's tiny suggestion.
This suggestion also reminds me of what mothers used to tell us as children: “If you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything at all.” Kindergarten logic, it was called. But it was wise beyond measure, I think. Adopting this philosophy as one's guidepost for living will have a major impact not only on your own sense of wellbeing and what you can contribute to the others in your circle, but also on men and women, children and young adults around the globe. What we do in one place with one person has a ripple effect that knows no end. Seem farfetched? Not at all. Some scientists call it the “butterfly effect.” I love the truth of it. It means we are helping, or hurting all others everywhere with every action we take. Making the decision to be kind, simply kind, always, is one way each of us can add benefit to the world we share. Why not give it a try?
In order to make good use of Mother Teresa's suggestion, let's inventory our actions of late, and then monitor them in the future for a period of time. Why? That's the only sound way we can be certain we are becoming the people we'd rather be. Now I don't want to push you into a corner, so if this exercise doesn't appeal to you, at least not at the present time, that's okay. Move on to another essay and discover how it might speak to you. But I'm inclined to think that many of us really do want to change how we respond to the people around us. And because treating one person well actually treats many people well, it's a simple way to make a very important contribution to the human community.
Looking at the recent past:
1. What instances can you recall when you could have shown a kinder hand to the people or person you were having an exchange with? If you were to re-experience that encounter, how would you prefer showing up? Take a moment to write about it in your journal. We make changes more easily when we put them in writing.
2. Please share those times when you could have celebrated how you behaved. What feedback did you receive from the person or people involved? What has it taught you about your future?
3. Being who we want to be is little more than a decision. The decision to be kind is really an easy one to make. And it relieves us of all stress. We know, without even thinking about it, what we will do in every encounter. Every one.
6
The Journey Is Perfect, the Stumbles as Well as the Strides
I don't know about you, but I have stumbled many times getting to where I am now. I began stumbling, literally, when I took my first drink at thirteen. Hiding behind the garage at an outdoor family gathering, I gulped down my whiskey and coke before anyone could notice me. The rush I felt was quickly matched by the uneasiness I experienced as I headed back to the group. With darting vision, I hurried into the house so no one would guess what I had been up to.
What I could have learned then was that alcohol had the capacity to trip a person up in more ways than one. However, what I learned instead over the next few months was that with every drink I took, I felt a bit less fear. Around boys in particular. Over time, the continued use of alcohol gave me the courage to stand apart, to move forward, even to eventually set many highfalutin goals, most of which seemed way beyond my reach, throughout the next thirty-three years.
As an example, I'm convinced that I would not have tackled graduate school following the demise of my twelve-year marriage if I had not fueled up on alcohol. Perhaps that seems like a farfetched idea, but I'd venture to guess that many alcoholics in the rooms of AA would concur. We could muffle the cries of the scared ego if we drank just one more whiskey on ice. I knew I wasn't a scholar, in my sober moments; but with a little alcohol in my system, I was certain I could accomplish what the others around me were accomplishing. And one of the areas I was fearless about was writing. While I observed my fellow students avoiding like the plague the major papers that were required for every course, I eagerly leapt to the challenge. Unafraid. Undaunted. Undeterred.
That I met the challenge successfully gave structure to the rest of my life. Learning, as I did, how pleasurable writing could be set the stage for my passion to flourish. Twenty-nine books later and I'm still committed to the dream. The fortunate news is that I didn't have to keep drinking to accomplish it. In fact, had I continued to drink, I would have failed the final test. Writing the dissertation took a sober head. I feared I couldn't master that. But I did, with the help of many others.
I am not assuming that you, the reader, had a journey like mine, one that was both helped and then hindered by alcohol, but before I go further, let's pause. Think about your own journey from your teen years to now. Just close your eyes for a few minutes. Just as suggested in the introduction, pause, breathe, and pause again.
What do you see and feel?
What could have deterred your journey but didn't? Or if it did, for a spell, what happened to change your course? To pull you back on track?
Does it seem to you that your trajectory has been intentional? What does that mean, in fact?
I am comforted by the opinion that our journeys are quite intentional. That they were predetermined; some would say preordained. Caroline Myss, the spiritual intuitive I referred to earlier, says that all experiences with all others are “sacred contracts,” encounters agreed to before “awakening” into this life we currently lead. She says the agreements we made are equivalent to the “education” we receive. And that education is not only for our benefit, but for the benefit of others as well.
I am well aware of how some of my experiences strengthened my character and served as the example to others of what a single experience is capable of doing for us. For instance, as I mentioned in another essay, I learned the true depth of forgiveness as a result of an unwanted sexual encounter when I was a young girl. It was not sought by me, of course. I was an unwitting participant, and I was haunted by the many experiences for decades thereafter. Had I had an inkling that I was going to be privy to the real meaning of forgiveness as a result of the encounters, perhaps I would not have been so frightened by them. But I didn't know. I didn't understand. I didn't see the big spiritual picture. And it wasn't until I read Myss's Sacred Contracts that I fully understood the meaning behind the experiences, a meaning that has informed my life like no other:
You probably know people who seem to have had their entire life mapped out from the day they were born. You may have envied their sure sense of what they were born to do—their work, career,