The Radicality of Kindness
"My religion is kindness," an oft-repeated Dalai Lama quote, reflects that his guiding principle is compassion and kindness in thought and action. Examples of kindness around us abound if we shine a light on them. Recent research shows that kind acts promote well-being for both the giver and the receiver.* The same study found that people often underestimate the impact of their acts of kindness on others. This finding is vital to remember because we can feel helpless in the face of suffering in the world, feeling we should be doing more but not knowing what that is.
The notion of loving-kindness, called Metta in Buddhism, is radical in that it is a commitment to always show kindness, including when it is difficult. How can we be kind to people whose views we are averse to, even people who cause harm to others?
The rubber hits the road when extending acts of kindness is most difficult and requires courage. We undertake this practice because we understand this is the only way to a peaceful world.
Radical kindness does not mean that we don't call out what is happening, like injustice. Instead, a practice of kindness compels us to seek justice. And kindness does not preclude speaking the truth or expressing anger. Kindness envelops difficult emotions, like anger and aversion, with tenderness. When this happens, we can work with all of our internal experience from a place of strength and greater calmness.
Sharon Salzburg, a mindfulness teacher whose book "Lovingkindness" has touched the lives of millions of its readers, said that in times of adversity, [loving]kindness is not a saccharine or weak response. On the contrary, it is a way of responding that is full of tremendous strength. She says that a commitment to being kind and compassionate is a recognition of the truth that we live in an interconnected universe.
It is easy to deny my interconnectedness to people I dislike. I don't have to like someone to be kind, but I do need to dig deep and ask something of myself. Kindness is a profound connection not only to others but also to our inner strength, which may sometimes be outside our awareness.
Choosing loving-kindness as a core value means that we understand that what we do ripples out and has a continued impact. Kindness is the fundamental spirit of respect for others, respect for the fact that we all want to belong to something greater than ourselves and that we all want to be safe and happy.
Christina Feldman, a Dharma teacher, said that people often think of loving-kindness as gentleness and miss the vital understanding that it also requires fearlessness. It takes courage to be present in the face of suffering and pain. In the face of alienation, courage helps us stay focused with a calm heart and mind, even when it seems impossible. Christina says that loving-kindness works by loosening fear's hold on our hearts. Fearlessness allows the heart to remain tender and open, allowing us to resist the temptation to retreat into self-protection. Lovingkindness doesn't remove fear but instead transforms it into something else. Fearlessness is tenderness brought to the experience of fear and a willingness to stay open to all experiences, come what may.
At a silent retreat I attended years ago, Christina shared the story of a Buddhist monk who lost his entire family to the Khmer Rouge. In the 1970s, the regime brutally held power in Cambodia for nearly four years and continued its reign of terror and violence long after. The Khmer Rouge had a policy of eliminating Buddhism, leading to the genocide of monastics and the destruction of temples. They threatened to kill anyone who returned to the temples, yet this monk did so anyway.
The monk wondered what he could possibly say to the people who came to the temple for solace, all who had suffered unimaginable cruelty and loss and were terrified. What he offered was the ancient chant of Metta, which was a deeply ingrained cultural prayer that the brutal regime had silenced.
He offered the prayer, "Hatred never ceases by hatred, but love alone heals."
In my home, suspended on the wall near my bookcases, is a miniature book, an artistic creation by Portland artist Beth Wilson. She asked me to send her a favorite poem for her to transcribe in its pages. I chose Joy Harjo's poem, which is written below.
This Morning I Pray for My Enemies by Joy Harjo And whom do I call my enemy? An enemy must be worthy of engagement. I turn in the direction of the sun and keep walking. It’s the heart that asks the question, not my furious mind. The heart is the smaller cousin of the sun. It sees and knows everything. It hears the gnashing even as it hears the blessing. The door to the mind should only be open from the heart. An enemy who gets in, risks the danger of becoming a friend.
I can't end without sharing Naomi Shihab Nye's poem on kindness, which speaks to the radical nature of kindness and why it is required to deliver us to a peaceful world. The poet's father immigrated to the United States as a Palestinian refugee.
Kindness by Naomi Shihab Nye Before you know what kindness is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness. How you ride and ride thinking the bus will never stop, the passengers eating maize and chicken will stare out the window forever. Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road. You must see how this could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans and the simple breath that kept him alive. Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. you must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread, only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say ‘It is I you have been looking for,’ and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend.
Thanks for this. I try my best to have kindness as a core philosophy, there's always room for improvement.
Do you have any thoughts on showing up with kindness with those who have caused harm to you? When we can't avoid them being in our space?