Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle

This past week spun through with a whirlwind of family, work, volunteer and social activities.  I survived while practicing patience, professionalism and kindness. 

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” 

Attributed to a Scottish preacher and writer Ian Maclaren.  According to this Wikipedia article, it is often misattributed to Plato or Philo of Alexandria.   Regardless, it is a good maxim or axiom for anyone to follow. 

It was also one of the themes in the Noah film I saw on Easter Monday.  In addition to the reminder to take care of the creatures and not misuse earth's resources, the words had particular impact while emerging from the kissable lips of a ruggedly handsome actor.  

 

I digress.  

Continuing with the theme of kindness... 

My writing women friends met on Friday for our monthly gathering at our usual restaurant.  In addition to my late arrival thanks to a public transit snafu, I learned that the establishment had not renewed its liquor license after recent renovations.  To add insult to tardiness, I would not be able to join some of them in a toast with wine.  Instead, we made do with ice tea or water and carried on.  We made do.

In-between rare visits from our waitress, we took turns with the usual introductions, stating our recent accomplishments, future plans and to ask for help with challenging situations.  My OCD nature had to be quelled in that we were not able to complete the circle around the table due to interruptions and side conversations.  

One concern and distraction was the waitress's mood and (a-hem) service.  This became a topic of conversation while empathizing, offering possible reasons for the attitude and blunt treatment.  One guest later mentioned that while she returned from the restrooms, she overheard a loud conversation between our server and one of the young managers. 

We knew something was out of balance, was not quite right.  Most were forgiving of the ensuing service with attitude and carried on with the meal.  We continued to enjoy each other's company and practice the art of conversation. 

While paying my bill directly to the waitress, I asked her name, stating that in all the months that we had come to this restaurant, that we had not learned her name.  That seemed to soothe her a bit.  The generous tip may have too.  

Prior to leaving, I took the opportunity to speak with her alone, asking how things were going.  After her generic response of "Okay, okay", I asked again how things were going with her - and with work.  Her eyes watered as she expressed her frustration of being an older woman, working for some young thing who didn't respect her and that she wanted to discuss the matter with her but was brushed aside. Wow, she was expressing feelings similar to those of many friends and acquaintances. 

I offered words of hope that things improve, a hug of reassurance, and that we looked forward to seeing her next month.  She said thank you.  

Most people would not be that patient with or understanding of someone who provides poor service.  Some would not have the imagination to consider the surrounding circumstances or be empathetic (benign interpretation).   Some would complain to the management. Some would walk out, announcing their intentions to never return!

What would you do?

Good vibratience

I admire the patient, well-balanced people. 

My own journey to becoming a more patient and mindful person has taken a few detours over the past couple of years.   

Due to a couple of appointments looming and my wishing to reduce stress levels last week, I had arranged to take Wednesday as a vacation day. 

My early morning started with one cup of instant coffee,  an empty stomach and a team effort to unceremoniously stuff a Tabby cat into her carrier.  She was not allowed to have breakfast prior to a medical procedure.  Being the empathetic person that I am, I chose not to eat either. 
 
We waited and waited for a taxi.  I used my iPad mini to take photos of the Cedar Waxwings invading the cherry trees in my neighbourhood.  It was a pleasant distraction for me but not for the cat.

After waiting patiently for an hour to finally reach a taxi driver who would take a pet in his pristine vehicle, we arrived at the veterinarian's office, apologetic and flustered.  I signed Miss Kitty in for the day, said goodbye and promised to return later in the afternoon.  She was not pleased. 

After treating myself to a hearty restaurant breakfast of steak and eggs, I bussed to my own doctor's office for a pre-arranged appointment.  When the doctor informed me there would be a ten-minute delay, I thanked him and waited patiently, reading Madame Bovary (the English version downloaded to my iPad Mini).  I didn't have the energy to dig out my glasses to read the meditation book I had also toted along.  Besides, after another twenty minutes of waiting, I was not in the state of mind to accept the wisdom presented within.  

When the good doctor was finally ready, he thanked me for being considerate.  Considerate?  I was hoping to hear "patient" or "understanding".

The purpose of the visit was to review the results from tests he had requested a couple of weeks prior.  To be brief, he confirmed that I am at that certain stage in life.  

This explains those sudden hot spells, mood swings and a growing impatience when suffering fools. 

I next made my way to meet an older, wise friend for lunch.  We shared personal and family updates over healthy salads.  We shared thoughts and hopes for the RCC now that it has a new Pope. 

After our lovely visit, I trotted off to another appointment, to be primped by a couple of my favourite beauticians.  They only had a few minutes each to work on me yet the results were above expectations.  

I made it back to the vet's office in time to check on Miss kitty, pay the bill and taxi home.  I chuckled at the sheet of instructions and the cute little tooth brush they gave me.  Yeah, right.  Like I'm going to use this on a cat that isn't even mine.  I doubt she would agree to sit patiently for a weekly brushing without being sedated.

 

The fragmented work week was topped off by a lovely Friday night dinner with a friend then proceeding to a Gong Meditation session.  

It was my third time attending these relaxing sessions over the past year.  Unfortunately, this one was not the best.  A young couple thought it would be delightful to bring their energetic four year-old along. He proved to be a distraction for all the up-tight ladies in the room.

What was I thinking during the 30 minute session? Breathe in. Breathe out. Let the sound waves wash over, relax me ... and gently, firmly descend upon the little imp, pinning him down onto the mat. I was NOT experiencing positive thoughts or words.  Who the heck thinks they can bring a young child to a meditation session and not expect distractions?  Now that was inconsiderate.

The instructor was patient and calmer than necessary through all of this.  At the closing of the session, she spoke of vibrations, sounds and the effect of words that come from our mouths.  

With bulging eyes and a grinding smile, I nodded in agreement with the concept of Conscious Communication.   I just wasn't feeling it.  Thank goodness another session participant took the oblivious mother aside and shared her thoughts.  

My friend and I didn't have the patience to stick around.  We were tired, agitated and just wanted to get home.
 
The next morning, after a restful sleep, I used any residual, angry energy in a positive manner while taking on some house cleaning. I hummed a happy tune as I scooped out the litter box and scrubbed the powder room.

 

The cat?  She's doing fine. She is once again my furry little friend, an artist's muse who allows me to feed her, scratch her chin and rub her belly.

She also gives off relaxing vibrations with her affectionate purrs.

T