Jenny Block, on kindness as the hardest best thing you can do
A friend of mine— let’s call him Phil — is getting divorced. His soon-to-be-ex (we’ll call him Ed) was an addict and did time in prison. He suffers from a chronic illness that requires expensive healthcare. He asked Phil if they could get married so he could get health insurance through
Phil’s work.
Phil said yes.
About 18 months later, Ed was using again. He became violent. He started threatening Phil. He started behaving erratically. Phil pleaded with him to go to rehab, to go to counseling, to try to find his way back. After numerous attempts, Phil left and filed for divorce.
And now, Ed is trying to take Phil for everything he possibly can … much of which he may actually have a legal right to, because they were married. Phil came into the marriage with a lot and is a high-income earner. Ed came with nothing and earns nothing. Not one of Ed’s demands is just, and not one of his demands is kind. Which got me thinking about how simple it all could be if we were just kind to one another in all we do.
Every day, we make choices in our relationships. We can do what’s “legal” or we can do what’s kind. Kind isn’t always easy. Sometimes, it’s downright annoying. I feel quite sure that my wife doesn’t relish taking the trash out over and over … and over. But she does and she never says a word about it.
All things being equal, I should take it out half the time. That would be “legal,” sharing chores equally. But she does it because she does it. She does it because she knows how hard it is for me to lift a bulky package it into the giant can. She does it because she chooses to be kind.
I don’t like washing the dishes after I cook. And my wife almost always offers to do it. I try not to let her because after dinner is the first and only time she finally sits down and stops after going at it all day, starting from before I even open my eyes. She’ll get up and wash. But it only takes me a few minutes and it’s the kinder choice for me to do it myself even though I was the one who cooked and “legally,” one cooks and one washes.
Do I always make the kinder choice? I wish. But I always feel good when I do … and not so much when I don’t.
My guide to being kind is an ancient — and incredibly simple — one. Miguel Ruiz put them in book form with The Four Agreements, but the ideals are based on ancient Toltec wisdom. 1. Be impeccable with your words. 2. Don’t take anything personally. 3. Don’t make assumptions. 4.
Always do your best.
That’s it.
It appears that Ed has made the choice not to adhere to any of these. That’s his prerogative. Phil can’t make him follow them any more than any of us can force another to make the decisions we want them to. What Phil can do is decide if he will follow them. In doing so, he may lose his shirt. But he will likely save his heart and soul.
In a healthy relationship (unlike Phil and Ed’s), good begets good — that is, one partner following the four agreements often inspires the other to do the same and a sort of “circle of kindness” is created, like in that commercial where the guy sees the other guy help the women with the stroller so he helps the guy with his groceries and the woman who sees that helps the woman on the bus and so on and so on.
Sometimes you get mad at your partner or she gets mad at you; either way, it makes you want to do the opposite of what the four agreements suggest. That is the moment of choice. That is the moment you can either grumble about always being the one to empty the dishwasher and take it as some personal affront and attach some meaning about your partner thinking you’re good for nothing more than emptying the dishwasher or you can simply, well, empty the dishwasher.
One leaves both me and the machine empty. The other leaves me feeling full and satisfied that I didn’t turn dishes into weapons or anything else other than what they are. Clean dishes. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I don’t always remember to follow the agreements. Worse, sometimes I remember and simply choose not to follow them because I’m feeling grumpy. But when I listen to myself and to the universe I remember that these ideals are ideals for a reason. They are something we are to aspire to and something which promises great reward. But they also require great practice.
Ed won’t likely read this column. Even if he did, he likely wouldn’t be able to hear the message. That’s how it seems to work for some reason. He who needs it most is least able to hear it. But our job is not to force others to act; it is to act in a way that sits well with our own soul. And, should that inspire others, all the better.
I still won’t always want to put the clothes in the dryer. I’ll still say unkind, unnecessary things. I’ll still get my feelings hurt even when the matter at hand has nothing at all to do with me. I’ll still fall short of a task when I couldn’t seem to muster my all. But I will always walk with kindness and I will always strive to let the agreements be my guide. I will strive to be impeccable with my words. I will strive to not assume. I will strive not make everything about me. I will — and this is really the sum of all the parts — strive to do my best.
And when it comes to relationships, or life for that matter, that really is all we can do. One thing is for sure, nothing ever feels as good in the long run as doing the right thing. And the kind thing, is always the right thing.
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