Tea, Ruth, and Kindness

by Amy

This may just be my most personal post yet. And I don't have my books with me so I can't get actual quotes.

Remember the whole butterfly and caterpillar theme? And change? And "in-between" phases? Well, I'm going into cocoon mode now and am in an "in-between" phase.

My family is in the midst (literally) of a continental move. The last post was posted from one place. Today I'm writing from a hotel room, with a new computer I haven't yet quite gotten the hang of (I keep inadvertently deleting things and selecting things and losing all my work), drinking tea from a bag in a paper cup (Libby might revoke my friendship rights - I hope not).

I had been planning to write about tea and Ruth. Or begin to write about Ruth. There is so much to say I don't think this post will even begin to cover it. There will be a part 2. I'm sure. So I suppose this particular tea is probably the perfect one to post. It's very Ruth-like, isn't it? Paper cup and tea bag?

There's a scene, in NATURE OF THE BEAST where Ruth is drinking tea, looking at (or is it reading?) the play and remembering. Memory tortures her and she has spent an embittered life full of remorse.

I'm not even half her age. But there's something about a big move and lots of goodbyes that gives you a unique opportunity for reassessment and self-evaluation (especially if you're already prone to it - I am). I spent most of the past months planning who I want to become (because we can always ask ourselves who we want to be when we "grow up") and reassessing who I was - and am.

Kindness has been the recurring word in my mind.

It's almost eerie how the written word "haunts"  me in a sense. Whatever I am thinking about, mulling over, or needing seems to pop up in literature or in whatever written media I happen to come across.

I was thinking about what I was leaving behind, I was wondering how I would be remembered and hoped my legacy included kindness.

That said, I wish I had been kinder. In a conversation with a friend about an incident between us that happened 20 years ago, I mentioned I still regretted not having been kinder. She laughed (she didn't remember the incident) and told me I couldn't expect my younger self to be at the same place I was now and that she was sure I wouldn't have done the same in the same circumstance if it had been nowadays. She was gracious. She was also right. I hope.

Then I was reading Auggie & Me (R.J.Palacio) with my son and we ran across the character Charlotte. I knew her. I was her. I am her. Even though she's an 11 year old. She is learning what it is to be kind. At one point, she acknowledges and realizes that she may be nice, but that kindness trumps niceness. My son summarizes it as, "it's good to be nice, but between niceness and kindness? Kindness wins". I love that at one point, when she tells her principal about a friend who should be acknowledged for her kind behavior, the principal (who is as gracious as my friend was) tells her that she, too, is to be congratulated because "being nice is the first step to being kind". His words were a balm to my soul.

That same week (see how the written word seems to "haunt" me?) I read George Saunders's Advice to Graduates. It was like he had written how I felt. Except he was much more eloquent than I could have been.

I began receiving thank you notes and messages and cards and phone calls from patients in my practice. After 10 years, I was closing up shop and moving away and they were feeling orphaned. I was gifted with their appreciation and so happy because what they thanked me for and what they said they would remember was my kindness. So as I was assessing myself and finding myself wanting (I set high standards for myself in some regards), I was soothed by feedback from those who had been on the receiving end and were assuring me that (while I may not have reached my goals) I am on the right track.

And, finally, in packing up the things that matter (like old journals and school papers and books), I found an old journal I had written when I was 9. Just a little older than my son is now. The entire journal was dedicated to kindness. I was trying to be kinder and writing down things I had done to make people feel better about themselves, or to help someone in need, or to make someone feel appreciated and welcome, or...

I confess that I was shocked. I didn't remember that. I also hadn't realized how little I'd changed in almost 30 years.

When I reread the scene with Ruth, I was moved to tears. She sat down and wept.

That must have been so painful.

Is there anything worse than being condemned by our own conscious?

I feel for Ruth. But I am thankful that while I may find myself wanting and while there is more than one (many, many more) incident where I, too, feel like I have betrayed a friend or a trust, have taken a wrong turn, or have hurt someone... I have not been paralyzed by remorse.

As I looked back on my life and evaluated those instances where I could have done better, some I could console myself with the fact that I had asked for forgiveness and, when possible, made amends. Some, like George Saunders's story, where about growing up and learning to do better. And, in those instances, I reminded myself that I am still learning and to be tolerant of my own shortcomings.

I feel for Ruth.

But I am thankful that while I have shed a few tears in all these goodbyes and adjustments, they have mostly been happy tears.

I apologize for posting an unedited post, but the cocoon awaits and transition has a "to do" list a mile long.

My main goal? I hope my metamorphosis makes me kinder.