I am thinking a lot about perception and kindness today. I had some time this afternoon to be busy with my hands and let my mind wander while I was getting seed-starting trays ready to go (outside! in the sun!). It’s one of the things I love about gardening or making a recipe that I know by heart; while my hands are engaged in mechanical tasks, my brain explores all kinds of ideas. I often wind up with answers to questions I’ve been asking.
But today, my brain probably went to kindness because we had Easter brunch at our neighbors’, and then later in the day, when I’d dropped Larry off at the airport, one of those neighbors knew I’d be mopey and came by to chat over a beer on the patio. She even brought the beer! I got to thinking about how in all the places I’ve lived, I’ve most felt the recipient of sincere, invested kindness here. That’s not to say that people in the other places weren’t kind–of course they were. But in this small town, people look out for each other in a way I’ve never experienced elsewhere.
This line of thought led me to the idea of perception, and how whether or not something is actually true matters less than whether or not we perceive it to be true. I have a pretty good memory, but who’s to say I’m not forgetting a place that was just as or more kind than here? Whether I am or not makes no real difference, because my perception is that kindness is in steady and plentiful supply here, (for which I am eternally grateful).
The idea that perception is usually more important than reality led me to wondering about so many of the awful things in the news lately. I can be a bit Pollyanna sometimes, and so I got to thinking that perhaps if we all chose to perceive each other as equals and worthy and valuable, maybe whether it was really true wouldn’t matter. We’d act on our perceptions, and the Golden Rule of “Treat others as you wish to be treated” would be so much more achievable.
Pollyanna or not, I’m going to work much harder at perceiving everyone around me, even the man running up the back of my legs with his shopping cart or the woman tail-gaiting me down the mountain, as worthy and valuable. If nothing else, I think it will make me feel better.
Which brought me back to kindness. There was a meme going around some time ago that was something to the effect of, “Kindness is like compost. Spread that sh*t around.” And suddenly, I’d come full-circle to that gardening work I was doing with my hands.