Living With GRACE

Fast FORWARD

By Linda Hunter | Published February 12, 2015

What is it about the future that we are convinced will be better than now, than this very moment? Why are we always reaching beyond our grasp; do we imagine the future is more hopeful, holds more promise or more possibility? Do we realize that all of those future moments that we once wished upon, have already come and gone and have been our present, and become our past; today is last week’s future. Is it what you dreamed?

On Monday morning, the news shows are already predicting the upcoming weekend weather. By Wednesday, friends are sharing their plans, wishing the remaining three days away until Saturday arrives; living for what is yet to come. In our most difficult times we can be heard saying “as soon as this is over” or “I just have to get through this” or we can hear ourselves lamenting, “I need a break, need to get away, need a vacation”. For many, their happy place is in the distance; a cool calm forest, a warm beach, a sun filled destination. It’s a place where they can relax, a future with no deadlines, no worries, a sense of calm, a place of peace, a sigh of relief. It’s as though there is a place in that future moment where they can create some space, catch their breath, find a moment for themselves, where they can think beyond their present thoughts, put it all together, where there will be more quiet, more calm, less to concern themselves with.

The problem with this thinking is that we are never able to find refuge in the present, that future moment becomes the next present moment, and once again we are looking forward, into a future moment. What we need to understand is that it’s not a place to get to; it’s a place to be. We can find that quiet place, anytime we want to, it’s within us, and it’s always available. We have to trust that when we need it most, it will appear. We can call it up and take a moment, separate ourselves from what’ is going on outside of us, and go within. What if we learned to stop what we are doing, for the moment, to simply close our eyes ,unplug, turn off, shut down, if only for a moment. What if we could turn inward, find that destination inside ourselves; we could travel there, anytime we need a safe and still place to be, to hide, to stay. What if we carved out own sun filled destination, a place of peace in the present rather than in a dream of the future. What if instead of waiting for a Saturday stroll, we pulled the car over on the way home today, walked the beach or the trail this afternoon, or simply sat by the edge of the park right now. What if we didn’t wait to get through it, but found a way to be in it, to surrender to it, to live it and to add some calm right now, in this moment, where we are. What if we didn’t wish it away but wished instead for courage, strength and grace in the moment, took a breath or a few and then moved forward. What if we understood that all we truly have is this very moment, and that we can determine how that moment is spent, and that living for a future moment last week or yesterday, brought us here to this one, right now, this is that future, right now, where we are standing, the one we were thinking about, dreaming of, wishing for, not so long ago.

The problem with waiting to get through something or over something or for things to slow down, change, get better or get different is that it may be a very long time before any of that happens. And even with change, the next thing that’s just around the corner may be harder, sadder, even more difficult. So, we find ourselves in ‘waiting and wishing’ mode. And in the meantime, we are no longer in the moment, nor are we able to summon what we need in that moment; asylum, shelter, grace.

If we could just breathe a little longer, stand still in our own shadow, quietly, not thinking about the next thing, but being in this thing, if only for a short time, it might be enough. We might learn to summon it anytime; to get good at it, find a way to have it on tap, close by, within earshot and heartshot and we could call it up. We could start to string these ’being present’ moments together; allowing us to live today without wishing for another. Then the weekend might not be what we need in order to escape what we have, but would in fact be, just the present moment, once it arrived. Perhaps then, we could embrace a future that no longer holds any power, and instead holds only promise.

Photo credit: Andrew Chambers Photography (andrew.chambers@live.ca)

The Measure of a Man

By Linda Hunter | Published January 30, 2015

What if you didn’t open the report card? What if instead, you relied upon their actions, on what you see before you, on what you know to be true? Would you know how your child is doing in school, at home, in life, in the world?

We need school teachers; those who lift us up from where we are lying, who impart information and wisdom , who cause a shift in perspective, who teach us what we need to know and what we don’t want to hear. We need teachers who reach out to a part of us that is inaccessible, hardened to the news, who cause us to open, to awaken, to move onward.

I am not convinced, however, that we need the report cards.

I never quite understood why report cards are so valued, considered so important. Dreaded by many who don’t want to disappoint parents, report cards reflect if you are on par, how much effort has been made, how smart you are, how far you have come, what’s needed in order to ‘improve’. They reflect how you measure up, if you are like the rest, on track; ready for moving up or moving on. Celebrated by those who hold the highest letter grade, the best report cards somehow show you have learned it well, are smarter than the rest, better in some way, achieved, ready for the next phase. Report cards are meant to show and measure progress.

When our children were small, I didn’t need a report card to tell me what they knew or how they were progressing. I knew that our daughter understood the story we were reading, the message in the movie, how to measure wet and dry ingredients for baking cookies. I recognized that one son couldn’t put the letters or sounds together, that he understood the concept of equality and justice, and that his frustration was difficult to manage but would later be seen as a sign of strength. We knew that our other son who hardly spoke, knew the words, but was selective; preferring to say only what was meaningful, which meant being quiet much of the time. We knew they could write because they created ‘thank you’ cards when appropriate, found the right groceries on the shelves, and recognized their name on the gift. We knew they understood math, when they saw their height on the door frame, ran out of extra money, knew what time it was when the sun went down. They could read numbers from delivering newspapers, understood train timetables from traveling, and discovered that one pair doesn’t last when you are away for a whole month. We knew they understood; the value of friendship, what World War II meant to their grandfather, how to be compassionate when a sibling was in a cast. They learned about sharing at the dinner table, about abundance from the garden, about scarcity from the food bank, about animals from watching pets live and die. They figured out what it means to be first in line, last in the race, and the middle child. They figured out what bullying is, what kindness is, what sorrow is. They knew how to make a muffin, make a mess, make a difference. They learned about the world from going there, about science from building and biking. They figured out what to wear by putting their hands out the window and their feet in the puddle. They found out about honesty when things went missing, about love when someone died, about commitment when the team wasn’t winning. They learned about sharing when they were hungry, about fear at the top of the slide, about physics while riding a skateboard. They understood that they grew taller with time, more knowing with experience, more enlightened as they opened up.

What I believe might be a more accurate measure of who our children are, is the way in which they walk their journey, interact with those with whom they share the road, and what they offer up to others along the way.

My thought is that we keep the teachers and throw away the report cards. That we replace the reports with rapport, with a conversation that is meaningful, with an open and honest look at the progress of a person. I don’t remember what my children’s grades were in grade seven English, Math or Geography. But I know they write me beautiful messages, can cook with the right amount of curry, and know exactly in what part of the world, their next plane is landing. I know they walk a gentle and meaningful path in this world, are heart centred and spirit fed, and they measure their own worth, without input or grades but by sentiment and service. They are lifelong learners, figuring out what matters most, what’s worthy of their time, what no longer serves them; they are making their mark.

Photo credit: Andrew Chambers Photography (andrew.chambers@live.ca)

No Substitute for HAPPINESS… or is there?

By Linda Hunter | Published January 15, 2015

What is it about the state of HAPPINESS that has it in such high demand? Parents often wish only for their children to “be happy’ while the world and the web are filled with ideas and strategies around searching for and finding our bliss. Some suggest that we may be able to create a world of fulfillment, that we may even have control over our own happiness; invite luck, work hard, aim high, be the best, have more, be more, do more. Still others, with a different view, teach us to merely enjoy small pleasures, the simple things in life and that by going within we can intend it, create it, and manifest it. Either way, it is apparently within our own means to find and maintain it; worthy of a lifetime of searching, because the alternative, being without it, should somehow leave us feeling ‘less than’.

I think we have it all wrong, it’s an impossible quest. While I agree that happiness is a beautiful thing, the preferred state, worth finding and keeping when we can, I also think it is fleeting, difficult to maintain continuously or at a high level, and tenuous; anything can happen to us at any time, and happiness can leave us more swiftly than it came. We have created an expectation that we ‘deserve’ to be happy, that it is an ideal within our grasp, and that feeling less than joyous means that something must be wrong; with us, with the way we are living, with our current state of being, with the choices we are making. And once we fall from a state of happiness, we are encouraged to spend time, energy, and effort, searching for it once again, as though our current state, whatever it may be, is somewhat less than perfect.

We have grown uncomfortable with that uneasy feeling that lies between the last and the next bout of happiness. And while we live in hope of joy returning at some point, we can never really be certain; that it will come again, that it will stay, that it won’t forsake us. Arriving usually from the outside, it stops in for a short visit or sometimes settles down for a longer stay but is impossible to maintain in any permanent state as it is completely dependent on circumstance and criteria.

For if it were possible, would we not be saying that when suffering, sadness, and darkness find us, that happiness can remain alongside, or push out those new unwanted feelings entirely. Surely, this cannot be the case. When our state becomes one of grief or suffering, when we are depressive, or feeling the world’s overwhelm, weighed down by worry, how can we possibly feel happy? And would it not be healthier and better, to in fact, honour that new state, regardless of how painful, so that we can work through it, rather than stuff it down or ignore it’s pangs. All emotions serve us in some capacity and rarely does it help to stifle what is true and present, for what we desire or wish for the future, even when it hurts, regardless of how unwelcome.

What I believe might serve us better than happiness, is PEACE. Peace can be with us continuously and maintain a steadfast state. What is remarkable about peace is that it can withstand the test of time, can live in a place that is happy or not, in darkness and in light; it can accompany us in our worst of times. Subject to criteria or circumstance, happiness ebbs and flows, but peace is not contingent; it is a constant, an unwavering companion, with us always, available at all times, in our moments of greatest need. When we suffer, are lonely or alone, are without and overcome, overwhelmed and underneath, ill or even dying, it may be impossible to be happy. But it IS possible to be at peace. Even in despair, we can lean in and surrender to what is, accept that which is going on in and around us, provide a calm and serene place of spirit. We can fall to our knees; find a safe place to land. A sense of peace allows us to be still and vulnerable, to take on what we encounter and to find a way to accept it, walk alongside it, pave a path of grace. It allows us to remain grounded, comfortable in our own skin, on an even keel, neither up nor down, but sitting still, in a good place, or just ‘in place.’ Not dependent, peace does not arrive or leave, but can sit quietly, forever present, able to take on whatever comes our way.

Imagine what we might do for our children if we could raise them with a sense of peace, heart centered and spirit fed. What if we told them this truth; that there may be hard times, difficult, gut wrenching, sad, lonely and empty times, heart aching, bone weary, lower than low times, but that, with a sense of peace, feeling surrounded and held, that they can handle it, regardless of the outcome. What if we told them this truth; this may be as good as it gets, the road may be longer than they have the strength to step, the journey may be painful, harder than they anticipate, frightening and difficult, but that, with a sense of peace, they can not only accept it and endure it, but can eventually find a place of serenity in their steps and perhaps even gratitude for the lessons and the learning; a place of wisdom and welcome for the gifts.

We cannot save our children from the planet, from truth, from sadness or heartache, from darkness or their destiny. But in a world that is ripe with conflict, chaos, hurt and hurry we can reframe the answers, show them a way to peace, a place where they can relax their opposition, simply say ‘yes’ to whatever is coming, has arrived, has stayed, won’t leave. We can take the pressure off their ‘finding happiness’ and we can help them find a way to shine a light on the moment, open their minds to possibility, and lean into a shift in perspective. Rather than argue what cannot be altered, we can help them surrender, to be ‘present’ to what is present, to embrace rather than resist, to pull strength from faith or fact, and to wade in, knowing that they can weather the storm, able to face rather than fear.

Photo credit: Andrew Chambers Photography (andrew.chambers@live.ca)

less is MORE

By Linda Hunter | Published January 1, 2015

At the beginning of a new year, we often experience that ‘fresh start’ feeling. We reflect on our mistakes of the past, the goals we didn’t meet, the dreams we didn’t fulfill. We determine to make it a year that includes more; more to do, more to accomplish, more to change, more to have, more trips to take, more money to make, a life that is bigger and better.

What if instead of making lists and grand plans and trying to be ‘so much more’ this time around, we took a kinder, gentler, quieter approach. What if instead of preparing a strategy or game plan for the next 12 months, we simply used this year as an opportunity to become more aware, more mindful, making decisions in the present, as we moved along, each step of the way. What if we took the pressure off, just kept things simple and tried to improve in small ways, every step of the way; be more about goodness than the goods. What if we were more forgiving of ourselves and others, and just did the best we can, with what we know, and what we already have. What if we looked inward, in our hearts and in our homes and instead of adding to the pile, we adjusted to the whole of what we already have in our lives.

What if we decided to be more conscious in our decision making, took time to weigh it up before moving forward. What if we didn’t buy it as soon as we saw it, but instead we waited, to see if we really need it, can afford it, have room for it, want to look after it. What if we worried less about what others think, and gave it some real thought, our own thought and then made up our own mind. What if we looked around and decided; it’s good enough, we have enough, we are enough. What if new didn’t mean better, it just meant new. What if you turned off your TV, your Facebook, your online news source; you wouldn’t know what you were missing, and you would look within and could be without, or with what you have already.

What if, this year, we were less concerned about what we owned and what we had, and more concerned about what we loaned and what we shared. What if we didn’t attach to our attachments, if we looked at the larger picture, the greater need, our ability to help and provide for others? What if we looked at the common good? What if the only currency we used was ‘community’? What if we found ways to provide support instead of stature?

Instead of adding; to our list, to our square footage, to our debt, to our bank account, to our stuff, to our heavy hearts, to our accomplishments, to our stress, to our guilt, to our closets, to our load, to the pile, why don’t we instead, decide to give away: things we no longer need, time we have to spare, that which doesn’t serve us, extra money we can share, food we’ve grown, lessons we’ve learned, love we have.

This year, why don’t we simply decide, that less really is MORE

Photo credit: Andrew Chambers Photography

Christmas…opening my present

By Linda Hunter | Published December 17, 2014

This Christmas, we will celebrate as we always do; with food and friendship and family. We will open our doors and our hearts and invite the spirit of the season to join us as we share our offerings and our table. We’ll be grateful and reflect on our blessings; we are together, we are here, we are home.

And this year, once again, while we won’t be opening gifts, I will be opening my present…the present. This year I am going to make every effort, to stay in the moment, each individual moment, and to be fully awake and conscious in that moment, focused on the present; not distracted, not looking forward, not reaching back.

I am going to plan as I always do, for the extra people, and the special activities and events that come with this very busy time of year. I will think about bringing in extra provisions, baking some delicious foods, and stocking up on firewood and candles, treats and trimmings and I will look forward to impromptu visits and opportunities for community connections.

But I am going to try harder to slow right down, to stay calm amid the chaos, to see what’s just in front of me, rather than looking down the road. I am going to try and not anticipate the next menu, the next activity, the next day. I am going to make an effort to stay in the here and now, concentrate on the feelings that are being felt right now, on the conversations being spoken now, on the music and the moment, right now.

I am going to listen intently to the stories, relax into the Christmas movies, accept what is not done, what may not happen, what was forgotten or what can’t be changed. I am going to work on acceptance, rather than anticipation, on staying grounded and grateful, in this moment of time, where I am and with whom I am with, knowing that this moment is all I really have for sure. I am going to sink down into what it feels like to be Christmas, that warm and wonderful feeling of peace, that is all about leaving behind what doesn’t serve me, and leaning into what does; living and loving in the present.

Hush…

By Linda Hunter | Published December 11, 2014

In a world that is most often ‘plugged in’ and ‘turned on’, it may be difficult to imagine a space that invites silence in, that sits quietly waiting for you, that welcomes no sound at all. It is in that space however, where we learn to listen best; to hear the voice, the message, and to sit with stillness, without distraction, and in peace. Every chance you get, lean into that hush, that serene place of ‘still’ and it will reward you; with clarity, with calm, with reverence, and then a readiness to step forward, back into the noise, where we most live and love.

Sounds lovely doesn’t it; inviting, rewarding, worth seeking out? If that’s true, why are so few choosing it, making room for it, working toward it? I think it is this very silence, the stillness and the clarity, we most fear. I don’t think we want to hear the voice, heed the message, sit in stillness. I think if we are truthful, we much prefer the distraction, the business, the louder noises drowning out the quieter one, the nagging one, the one that begs to be heard. I am not convinced that clarity and calm are our preference. In fact, while we talk about how much we yearn for it, I think we are secretly pleased to wade through life’s noise, with a vision of serenity far in the distance, close enough to feel its presence but far enough away to feel elusive and remain unattainable.

As long as we have no time, no space, then we can put it off, listen later, forgive ourselves for taking more time. If we don’t hear it then we can continue to deny that which is our truth. What would it mean if we stopped long enough to listen, stood still enough to really hear that message, to let it penetrate our thoughts, to feel the weight of our wonder? Would it mean we would have to follow our own advice, do something, take action, create a plan, make a move? What would be our excuse for not listening, for not following the instructions of our heart, the directions we are being led with? Are we in fact, afraid that if we did slow down long enough to hear the message, we might have to do something with it, recognize that we are not doing what we need or are meant to be doing. We would have to admit that we have not been hearing all along what our hearts desire is, what it is we truly want. It would mean we would have to face our fears, our vulnerability, that we might have to make a change; in direction, in desire, in the status quo, in our life. We might have to pick a new path, head down a different road, be uncomfortable in order to welcome real comfort.

While we say we want peace, some calm, more quiet, what is true is that our full lives serve us. All of the space and time are taken up by daily life, by our long ‘to do’ lists, and by the many obligations that we feel we must fulfill. We consider it a luxury, even a waste, to slow down, to take time for ourselves, to push other things aside and to create space for something else to move in.

Here’s what I know; that we can put it off forever, we can pretend it isn’t there; we can distract ourselves for hours and years. In the end, however, if we fail to hear the voice, receive the message, heed the lesson, we will feel it forever. In our heavy heart, in our nagging headache, in our weary body, in our sadness, in our smaller life than anticipated and in a less than rich existence. We will leave our true purpose behind, while in our quiet despair, we live a life that is mostly doing, and much less being. We will know it in our soul, that we could have served our truth and we will die without singing the entire song.

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In July 2014, I was honoured to speak at a www.younlimited.com luncheon in Victoria, BC and to introduce a Silent Lunch to those in attendance. This is a clip of my speak ‘Getting Quiet’ that I gave before and after we enjoyed some quite time at our shared tables. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g29JXsbng6M

Bring on the BIRTHDAY!

By Linda Hunter | Published November 28, 2014

What is it about growing older, having yet another birthday, reaching ‘a certain age’ that many in our society do not want to acknowledge, welcome, celebrate, honour or remember? We don’t want people to ask us our age, or which birthday we are celebrating, or what number we are on. We live in an age where youth is where it’s at; looking forward with everything ahead of you, the possibilities abound, and you can do anything, be anything and all of it with vitality, energy and wellness. We teach them they have a life ahead of them, to dream, to plan, that anything is possible, that being young is where you want to be, that there are more advantages than disadvantages.

For those of us on the other hand, for whom our time on the planet is edging closer to sunset than sunrise, few seem to want to acknowledge that time is running out. Well I am there, at a place where I am older now than the years I have left, comfortable in my own skin, accepting of the wrinkles and a few age spots, with a little extra weight and a little less energy, feeling grounded and grateful, experienced, a little wiser than before, and a lot more ‘awake’, aligned, alive, and tuned in. More than ever before in my life, I am “wired for wonderful”.

Here’s what I know; that we are so much more fortunate than those who have already left this earth, we have more moments; this one, right now, for sure. We have more time to be and to do, more opportunities to ‘get it right’ to say what needs to be said, to walk the paths that are yet untraveled, to love and learn and to let go of what doesn’t matter or hold meaning any longer. We get to celebrate being; being, alone or with people we care about, with the sun on our face and sand under our feet, listening to birds, feeling, tasting, touching. We are lucky to have another chance, another sunrise, another sunset, perhaps another year, among friends, in the land of the living, buoyed by the memories of those who are no longer sharing our light. We can still make a difference, make a memory, be of service, forgive, find peace.

I recognize that not all the change is welcome and that for many, the struggle is difficult to manage, that suffering and sorrow joins the journey and that the process of moving forward is often tethered to the past. We know our bodies may fail us, our minds may dull, and that we may never be quite as good again as we are right now, in this exact moment. When does it change from being young enough to look forward to being old and only able to look back?

What if we were to lean into a different definition of ageing and start feeling more at home with growing old, attach more goodness to it? My 85 year old mother walks and talks more slowly, takes longer to make decisions, can do fewer things faster, and needs more rest in between. But how lucky are we that she is still here to make us laugh, to tell the stories of a time we cannot know and will soon be forgotten, to add a richness that comes with living long and a wisdom that sheds light in a different direction and causes us to pause. She adds another layer to our lives, a different dimension than the young ones bring. She knows more, understands more, and with the weight of a ticking clock, wastes less time or energy on what’s not important. She says yes more than no, understands death is closer than birth and remains grateful for the quality of her time here.

My father used to say ‘you can sleep when you’re dead”, and that he was going to use up every moment; working full time until almost 81, driving his car, enjoying his family. He wasn’t bothered about growing old, age was just a number, and in fact, until the leukemia diagnosis, he had his sights set on turning 100. Granted, ageing for men, is a much different experience than it is for women, both inwardly and outwardly in a world dominated by ‘youth’ and outer beauty, but he was right – we have an opportunity to be present while we are still present here on earth.

So while my body and the photographs show a timeline, I continue to grow grateful for every day that I can walk on a planet where so many footsteps have previously made their way, where so many wonderful humans have shared this space. And while I am clearly closer to my end than my beginning, being here is better than not being here, and living and loving will always beat leaving, and while I remain at peace with the idea that my time will come, I am having a blast while I am still upright and looking forward to blowing out the next round of candles!

*This blog post is dedicated to the past and to the present; to the memory of my Dad who died ten years ago tomorrow and to the moments I gratefully share with my wonderful friend Carolyne Taylor who was born 50 years ago today.

Don’t Ask Me How I Am Doing…

By Linda Hunter | Published November 9, 2014

unless you really want to know, have the time to listen, care about what’s going on for me. We have become a fast talking, fast walking people, who rarely look each other in the eye as we ask the question or find the moment to hear the answer.

Asking someone how they are doing, how they are feeling, what’s going on for them is an important and personal question and most of us just answer “fine thanks” because we are either in the same hurried state or we know they are not really listening. We call it ‘just making conversation’, even though we rarely actually have one. What would you do if someone told you they were suffering, were hungry, had lost their pet, had lost their job, were lost themselves? Would it stop you in your tracks, would you even hear them, or would you already be so far away from them, you miss their response. Could you stop what you were doing, be a little later for where you are going, could you stand or sit with them and look them in the eyes, take the time to hear them, and offer them an ear, some compassion. Could you make that moment about ‘them’ and not about ‘you’, could you pull yourself away from your business, your to do list, your quick pace, your distracted self, long enough to lean into someone else’s humanity, possibly someone you don’t know well. Would you take the time to get to know them, to make a human connection? After all, isn’t that what that question is intended to do?

I recall, years ago, when I worked in Toronto, our corporation implemented a new strategy intended to bring the management down to the people, to make more of a connection with staff. Every morning for a few weeks, one of the vice presidents, walked the floors asking the staff ‘”how are you doing?” And as an experiment, I offered up an array of answers. They included “my cat died (I didn’t have a cat), my car broke down on the way here today, my husband left me this weekend, my mother is very ill, and I am not loving this job. Not once, did he stop or even take a step back or a second look around at me as he passed through our department. He wasn’t listening and didn’t honestly care about me or my situation, and while I knew it was just part of the latest strategy imposed on him by a consultant’s suggestions, imagine how it would have turned out, had he stopped long enough for the answer, or truly been interested in the exercise. He could have become connected in a way he had never been before and built relationships with those who helped make a difference every day in a workplace where he spent most of his waking hours; what a missed opportunity; for him and for us.

We are all missing an opportunity; to connect not only to other humans but to our own humanity when we fail to engage in a meaningful way with those who share our space, our streets, our community, our planet. We are not just here to get things done, we are here to ‘get each other’, to find meaning in being together and to help light each other’s way.

We are here to be fully present, to be ‘aware’, in the moment; grounded in the space we are standing, aware of what and who is among us, and to connect with one another in a meaningful way. What is the point if you spend all your time ‘doing’ and no time ‘being’ with your tribe, which by the way, is every one of us.

Author, Don Miguel Ruiz asks us to be “impeccable with our word” and to have integrity and meaning in what we say. So you have a choice; either ask the question and be prepared to listen, or simply walk by and share a smile. Either one is appropriate, as long as it’s authentic.

On The Way To IAK

By Linda Hunter | Published April 13, 2014

I believe everything happens in the perfect moment, even when it’s not so perfect. I work hard at being ‘present’ and living in the ‘now’; not much of what I do would be considered ‘random’. As a planner by nature and by trade, I make arrangements, create ‘to do’ lists, book calendar appointments, consult budgets, and organize travel plans. And while I often know what’s ahead, I embrace spontaneity, love to go with the flow and am open to change; I come from a place of trust. I set my intention daily and while the idea of ‘random acts of kindness’ is a lovely thought, it doesn’t make much sense to me, the ‘random’ part I mean.

The word ‘random’, is defined as “made, done, happening, or chosen without method or conscious decision, haphazard, accidental, or by chance.” Based on that definition, random acts of kindness would be done without much consideration, no real forethought, more like an afterthought, on a whim, by chance or happenstance, not planned or guided, blind by design. They would be done when we had more time, extra money, added patience, increased energy.

So my question is what if they weren’t so random? What if they were in fact planned, designed, Intended Acts of Kindness? What if we knew exactly what we were doing when we included them on our ‘to do’ list, in our plans; if they were something we did on an ongoing basis. What if we intentionally put money aside to give away, had a small envelope in our car, were prepared for the moment. We could be at the ready, ready to celebrate a great service, to honour a busker, buy someone a sandwich, provide a charitable gift. It could be part of an ordinary, not so extraordinary day, part of a master plan, rather than an add on when you can, and giving would be simple, routine, nothing special, nothing extra, requiring little or no effort. We could budget for it, give time and energy to it, we could provide for providing, with consideration, with intent, on purpose.

When grocery shopping, we could buy extra for the food bank or the teen on the corner. We could mow our lawn and intentionally cross the line, and mow the next lawn too. We could walk beside a friend who is walking alone, walk in someone else’s shoes, offer shoes so someone else can walk, or walk for someone who no longer can. We could buy coffee for the next person, buy flowers for an unknown person, give our spot in line to a tired person, give our gloves to a colder person. We could grow an extra garden row, double the recipe and feed someone else, leave our recyclables out for someone to turn in, leave a book on a bench, walk a dog for someone who can’t, offer our seat when someone else won’t, offer love when it’s all we have.

What if we all had a simple shift in focus, if it was no longer by accident, unintentional, unplanned or random? We could lean in another direction, concentrate on kindness, act on purpose, with intent, with arms wide open. We could put it on our calendar, in our budget, and on our ‘to do’ list. And it could be a consistent, ongoing, regular, and ordinary part of our day, our week, and our life.

As Easy as One, Two, Three

By Linda Hunter | Published March 22, 2014

What if our vision was not to try and raise them, but instead, to try and help them rise?

Over the years, our children face challenging situations, amazing opportunities, radical changes in direction. And while the answers may not be immediately apparent, there is a process of resolution that works; three questions; one of them, one of us, one of the universe. As adults, we tend to want to fix everything for our children, save them from sadness, from suffering, to make it all right. We want to provide guidance, share our thoughts, give them the answer. Mostly out of love; we feel we know better, know more, are older, are wiser, have more life experience. What if instead of telling, we found ourselves asking, questions that would simplify things, lead us in a direction where we could truly be of help, moving us out of our own way so that they might show us THEIR way.

What do you need? Sounds simple and in most cases, so is the answer, they often have a real sense of what they need and what the right answer might be; food, rest, comfort, laughter, privacy, some time away, to find love, to make money, add space, be with a friend, spend time alone, leave school, heal a heart, move out, change direction, share a burden, end a relationship, create something new, quit a job. Rather than hear them, explore it or trust it, we question it, judge it, offer up a different answer, our solution; what we think is a better fit, is the right fit. The more children you have, mentor, know or love, the more varied the situations and the solutions. Doesn’t it make more sense to ask them rather than tell them, to seek first to understand, then to be understood? We walk beside them but need to recognize that they are on a very personal and independent journey and that only when we ask and listen, do we have an opportunity to all move forward and in the same direction.

What am I afraid of? That they are making a mistake, that they don’t know what they really need, or that things will get worse, end badly. We fear their choice will move them in the wrong direction, won’t meet our expectations, won’t fulfill their potential, won’t satisfy our needs. Our fears cloud our vision, affect our ability to respond with clarity and without judgement; blur what is truly best for them, shaping answers that sometimes represent less about our children and more about us.

What would love do here? Always provides the true answer, one that can never come from a place of lack, of scarcity, of fear, of longing, of judgement. Love drowns out our ‘shoulds’, clears the lens, and brings into focus, the larger picture; takes us out of ourselves, further from our head, and closer to our heart, leans into where our best lays waiting. Love softens our edges and paves the way for a path of grace.

So, the next time someone reaches out to you, in search of support, to ask for advice, to seek a solution, consider asking them what they need, asking yourself what you fear, and asking the universe what love would do.