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.

that's one rosy heap of trash.

It is hard to offend me. It is hard to really hurt my feelings. And I've found that as I've gotten older, it has gotten easier for me to lick the wound and move on. But when someone close to me throws me under the bus, it really rips me up. I know we will all fail one another- I have certainly failed many in my life- and I've had to learn to apologize. I've had to learn how to empathize. It's easier to be less shitty when you put yourself in someone else's shoes. I have also learned that just because I have learned doesn't mean everyone else has. Someone recently said to me "Amanda, I think you think everyone is like you, or should be". That idea has been swarming my head. He was speaking of one particular conversation in which I said I don't understand the negative nancies of the world, the "fml" people. I don't understand why people "fuck" their whole lives because something doesn't go their way. He was, of course, one of those negative... neds, and I'm afraid I made him feel as if his feelings were insignificant. I have known pain in my life, and I know what it feels like to be made small in that experience. So, I extended his observation into my deeper human experience. I think, in many ways, it perplexes me that people are they way they are. I know we are all different by design (and thankfully so!), but a lot of things, to me, seem like common sense. Why not move on and be happy? Why not let life have a rosy tint even if the picture is a pile of garbage? That conversation is haunting me now as I contemplate the butthurt feelings I have toward a close friend of mine who did, indeed, offend my dainty little feelings. Do I hold her insensitivity over her head? Not because I'm petty or because I'm bitter, but because I want to offer her the opportunity to empathize, to stand in my shoes and change the climate. We gotta move on and be good to one another. We have to say we're sorry, and mean it. We have to deal with one another in compassion and openness, with the WILLINGNESS to be wrong.

I don't expect an apology, but I've said my piece and it's in your hands. We can move on when you're ready to walk in my size 9 shoes.