Cultivation

I wish I had it in me to be a kinder person. My heart is in the right place; I just wish my mouth was there with it. I forget on a daily basis how much power words can have and how much passion can shape perception. As an actor and poet, I sorely abuse and neglect my use of words and delivery, and I and others suffer for it as human beings. My honest delivery hurts me and those around me.

My intentions are good- always, I want the best for everyone. I want everyone to win. But I lack a key element in myself that I wish I could grow: compassion. I wish I could learn that sometimes it's better to say the kinder thing than the truer thing. I have always, and I fear will always, be blunter than stone and, therefore, will always possess the ability to cut straight to the point, and unfortunately, so many ties in the process. Sometimes, the truth isn't kind, but I wish I could find a way to deliver the truth kindly. To be honest without being heartless. The say the right thing in just the right way... it's an art that will take me a lifetime to learn.

If there is a seed sown in me to grow kindness, how do I water it?
If there is a seed sown in me to grow hatred, how do I weed it out?

I see now in this difficult season of my emotional life that there are seeds sown in me that have grown thorny branches that stretch out towards those around me, scratching them with venomous barbs. When did the overgrowth get so large that I could no longer prune it? When did it grow so tall that the kind seed in me could no longer see sun, could no longer drink water, but was instead strangled by the bad seed that shared its bed?

Perhaps it is in seeing these scratches on those who come near that I realize: it's time to prune. It's time to be kind, to be compassionate, to be forgiving, to be understanding, to be gracious, to learn to say the true thing kindly. It is like me to want to clear the ground and start anew. But clearing away the thorns doesn't kill the root from whence they came- the root is still there, and the thorns will grow back. How do I begin? By slowly cutting away each branch, braving each thorny truth about myself and nursing my own resulting wounds, as well as the wounds of those I've hurt, with nectar from the fruits of kindness that will grow plump on a tree where a thorny patch once grew.