The Lesson of the Day is Kindness

It is my belief that we all too often assume that things will stay this way forever, just as we assume that who we are is limited to some little voice in our brains. And yet, the only constant of life is change. Those players in our game who pass through our little window of vision today may not be back tomorrow. If we believe that we are simply watching behind that window, then we are forever keeping the soul caged by our ignorance.

If we treated everyone we met today as though we would not see them tomorrow, we could pull all of our relationships into the present moment. This way, we would not be living with the grudges of what happened in this relationship months ago, but actually see the person standing before us now. And taking this one step further, we might seize the moment by making the effort to give them love, show them kindness and voice how much they mean to us.

During one of my shifts at the café this week, around lunch time, a little man came in who appeared to be in his seventies or eighties. “I’m here for lunch.” he announced. “Where are your sandwiches?”

My heart sank at that, for we had been out of bread for days and our sandwich case was empty. He kept talking. “Well, you can make them up fresh, right? I will have a ham and cheese.”

“We are out of sandwiches.” I told him. “But I am happy to recommend a good place just across the street called Plankers.”

“Planters?” I realized he could not hear me clearly and switched to my Big Girl Voice.

“There is a sandwich shop across the street called Plankers. They have great sandwiches. You should try there.” I said loudly.

“Where?”

“Go across the street, turn right and down about five businesses.”

With a heavy sigh, he put on his gloves and jacket and left as the next customer stepped up to order coffee.

About ten minutes later, my same little old gentleman was back, with a concerned look on his face.

“There is no such place!" He said, exasperated. "I went down that street and I didn’t see any Planeers Sandwiches.” Reading his eyes, I saw hunger and frustration. I looked around. The café was full, but the lunch rush was over and our influx was lessening. There was time.

“I will be right back.” I told my coworker. Then I stepped out around the counter, playfully extended my elbow and said loudly so he could hear me, “Let’s go to lunch, bud.” The old man grinned and took my arm. We crossed the street, turned right and went down five doors to Plankers Sandwich Shop.

“I can’t actually stay and have lunch with you because I am technically still working, but I wanted to be sure you were fed.” I explained. People in the shop looked up because I was talking so loudly. “They do an amazing BLT here! Have a great lunch and you know I expect a full report later.” I gave him a hug and briskly walked back to the café.

Working in the coffee shop, I try to treat every interaction as the one of the day. How can I make this person smile? How can I show them that I care? Can I anticipate their needs and make their day better? How can I be present to the people I love in my life and let them know?

If I stretch that motto bigger, how can I treat this life as the one and only? I choose to live bigger than the ‘9 to 5, have dinner, go to bed, do it all over again tomorrow’ pattern. I work towards leaving the country so I may stretch my mind with new cultures, new ideas, new languages, new territories with foreign ecosystems. To go play with the eagles under a parachute, to swim after giant eagle rays out into the expanse of the sea, to keep climbing back on that surfboard when I have sand in every orifice but I know this next wave will be mine. Newness in my life is not a new pair of 300 dollar boots. Newness to me is boarding the night train and waking up in a different country.

One of my new favorite visuals is the photo of the guru Swami Satchitananda balancing on a surfboard, riding a blue Hawaiian wave with his long beard waving and his orange robes flowing out behind him. Below the photo is the caption: “You can’t stop the waves but you can learn how to surf.”

Change is coming, change is already here. I cannot stop it, but I can wake up and learn how to play in the moment I have. I want to be awake when I walk back through the park to my car after work. I want to be present to the trees in their Fall orange robes, to notice the frost patterns on crunchy leaves underneath my feet, to be open to loving more fully, to learning all I can, not thinking of budgeting, bills, schedules or taking the car in for a tune-up. Opportunities pass and I shall not choose to wait until I am retired to go play around the globe. I am living my dreams now to keep them alive, not taking the chance that they might drown in the sea of mundane day to day tasks while I wait for the right time. To be present is to assume responsibility for being here and now in this beautiful world in this incredible moment and make every act count. You can only do that if you are awake, if you are paying attention.

I don’t want to be one of the robots that goes through the same motions day to day, doing just enough to get by, saying just what I have to say to move through to the next customer. Where is the depth in that? Where is the learning? This life is a classroom where most of the students don’t even attempt the assignments, nor write the papers or read the lesson textbooks or look inside and paint the pictures of what they see. Because most of those students don’t see the opportunity to learn in their given situation. And they surely don’t get that they are also the teacher setting the syllabus.

The little man I had helped returned to the café with a full stomach and a smile. He came back just to tell me how tasty his BLT sandwich had been, and when he asked if I had eaten yet, he offered me his other half.

The lesson of the day is Kindness.