I’m not a big fat panda. I’m THE big fat panda.

November Gratitude Shorts, Day 5

Thank the creative geniuses at Dreamworks for the “Kung Fu Panda” movies!

I appreciate the underlying philosophical messages in the cartoons, but oh, the humor!   “Shih Fu” means master in Mandarin–so Master Shifu is Master Master.  “Oo-gway” is the phonetic transliteration of the Mandarin word for turtle, and it just looks hilarious to see Oogway as a proper name, not to mention the toothless, dreamy, benevolent creature that Master Oogway is.

Really now, are these not the funniest movies ever made??  Maybe it’s just me?  No matter–that I have something this reliable to make me laugh and lift my mood, whenever I want, is priceless!  All I have to do is think of a quote and I’m happier!  Some of my favorites:

“There is no charge for awesomeness… or attractiveness.”  –Po, about himself, in his own dream

Master Shifu: “But who? Who is worthy to be trusted with the secret to limitless power? To become the Dragon Warrior?”  Master Oogway (after a pause, staring skyward, with a blank and awestruck expression): “I don’t know.”

“One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it.”  –Master Oogway

“We do not wash our pits in the Pool of Sacred Tears.” –Master Shifu

“I’m not a big fat panda.  I’m THE big fat panda.”  –Po

Soothsayer (a sheep, foretelling): “If you continue on your current path, you will find yourself… at the bottom of the stairs.”

Po: “I just found out that my dad… isn’t really my dad.”   Tigress: “Your dad, the goose… That must have been quite a shock.”

Mr. Ping (Po’s dad): “So, how did it go, did you save China?”  Po: “Yep.”  Mr. Ping: “Well, I knew you would! That’s why I had these signs made!  ‘My son saved China – you too can save! Buy one dumpling, get one free!'”

*sigh* Aaaah, what a great way to start the day.  Maybe your day can be lightened sometimes, too, with a little children’s cartoon movie humor. šŸ™‚

On the Kindness of Strangers

November Gratitude Shorts, Day 3

Today I give thanks for the kindness of strangers.

As I approached the entrance to a building this morning, a young man held the door for me. I walked a good fifteen feet behind him, so I was surprised that he even saw me.  And it was one of those almost awkward moments when he stood there several seconds holding the door—he actually stopped on his way somewhere to be kind to me, a stranger.  I noticed what he was doing and felt happy and warm inside.  Then I panicked just a little—there were 4 shallow steps leading to the door—do I take them two at a time, or shuffle quickly up each one?  What if I trip and fall on the way up, then it’ll be even more awkward, he’ll probably feel obligated to come back out and help me up, maybe regretting that he stopped in the first place…I chose the shuffle option, made it to the door unscathed.  We exchanged smiles, ā€œThank you,ā€ and ā€œNo problem.ā€  It was just so pleasant!

I love moments like this because they remind me how we are all connected, and how everything we do affects others, no matter how small. I first saw a Travelers Insurance commercial illustrating this in the 1990s. Recently Liberty Mutual (link to the YouTube video) made something similar.  One person shows kindness to a second, a stranger.  This act is witnessed by a third stranger, who later shows kindness to a fourth, which is witnessed by a fifth, etc.  The idea goes one step beyond ā€˜pay it forward,’ where the person who received the kindness shows kindness to another.  I think we can assume that.  But likely more than one other person witnesses each of these acts, and if they are all inspired to act more kindly toward the next stranger they meet, how brilliant!

Exponential spread of kindness, one small act at a time. Yes.

Convergence

Day 2, November Gratitude Not-So-Short

I commit to November Gratitude Shorts to practice daily writing and thanksgiving. Thank you for stopping by!

Today I give thanks for Convergence Experiences.

Last week I started listening to BrenĆ© Brown’s new book, Rising Strong.  If you have not already read or listened, I highly recommend it.  Early in the book she describes a conflict with her husband in which she openly acknowledges the story she tells herself about the origins of his behavior toward her.  Turns out it’s completely wrong, and the point is that by owning her own story, she invites him to tell his, and they can then communicate in love and the pursuit of mutual understanding.  I felt proud that this practice of recognizing and owning the stories I tell myself about others was one of the first things I learned in coaching years ago.  Then, days ago, my friend Donna Cameron published her post ā€œOh, The Stories We Tell!ā€ on her blog, A Year of Living Kindly.  Bam, validated again!

Later in the book, Brown talks about why so many people fear ā€˜reckoning and rumbling’ with our feelings and emotional experiences. Feelings, especially negative ones, can be overwhelmingly uncomfortable, and thus intolerable.  So rather than engage with them, we repress or ā€˜offload’ them—bury them or project them onto others, often those closest to us.  I think she makes an analogy to going down a rabbit hole, and I know exactly how that feels.  I have spent the last two years spelunking in my deep emotional life (aka the Sh*tpile), and it scared the sh*t out of me at first.  And, it gets easier the more I do it.  Another endorsement, thank you, Dr. Brown!

Still later, she tells another story of her own experience reconciling other people’s wretched behavior. ā€œAre people really doing their best all the time?ā€ she asks.  Before hearing this I had just commented on another blog that we are all here doing our best, and if we could only see one another this way, even if only part of the time, things would be a lot better.  In her research, Brown has learned that those who choose to assume we are all doing our best tend to be the ones who, in her view, ā€˜live wholeheartedly.’  They exhibit more self- and thus other-acceptance, they sit more comfortably with vulnerability, and they judge themselves and others more gently than those who think we definitely do not try our best all the time.

Now I’m starting to feel a bit smug, thinking something like, ā€œI got this. I’m a wholehearted, reckoning and rumbling, uber-intelligent emotional Rock Star.ā€  –Or at least a star student.  And I’m reminded of when I read her last book, Daring Greatly.  I got through the whole thing feeling and thinking something similar.  I have since learned that understanding a concept in one’s mind, such as that vulnerability is not weakness, and that in order to truly reach our potential we must be willing to risk failure and embarrassment, does not mean that one lives that understanding in a real emotional life.  True integration comes, like mindfulness, through continuous seeking, struggle, and a whole lot of grace.

At this point, I can both acknowledge the emotional progress I have made, and also check my pride. There will always be lessons to learn and practice, and I know that whenever I start to think, ā€œI got this,ā€ I need to look in my blind spots, because something is bound to show up there, sooner or later.

Convergence Experiences validate, encourage, and inspire me. They reassure me that I am on the right path, toward greater understanding, empathy, compassion and love, not just for others, but for myself.  They also remind me that only the journey matters; there is no destination other than how I choose to live today.  That’s a lot to be thankful for.