The world is a kind place. I believe this to be true. Yes, I am the recipient of a vast amount of privilege due to where and when I was born, the color of my skin, my family’s ability to participate in home ownership and higher education, and more.
Believing the world to be a kind place does not mean that I have not had some difficult moments. It doesn’t mean that I haven’t felt envy, jealousy, or anger. As I write and think about what it is that I am trying to say exactly, it occurs to me that I am referring to the world as the magical combination of nature and energy.
Society, cultures, civilizations, and governments are constructs. They are the systems within which we choose to operate or participate. Sometimes it feels like we don’t have a choice, and these things are being forced on us. Like when we are children, and the adults in our lives can control almost every detail and become easily upset at the details that they can’t control. I know I have made choices to participate in my life in a way as to mitigate other people’s comfort or more precisely, discomfort.
Contorting myself to fit in systems made by others does not work for me. And my need to be part of something can override what I know to be true for myself. I have lived for other people. It ends up being kind of cyclical; I shapeshift then I realize that I can’t hold the unnatural shape for one more second and I explode, implode, self-sabotage, or all of the above. Then I start to put myself back together in a way that feels like me until I give under the pressure from others.
The closest thing I have to an answer is that the world is kind. If I can connect to the natural world, the unseen world, or beauty in a piece of art then I can steady myself and be reminded that there are many ways to live. I can make choices that resonate with me, starting with the simple act of sharing a smile, a greeting. I can be the kindness I believe in.
