After many deeply-satisfying years in non-profit management, Donna spends her time blogging about the power of kindness, and always looks for ways to convey the power of stories. She believes that we can change the world through our stories, and through kindness. Her new book is called A Year of Living Kindly.

donna-cameron.jpg

Donna Cameron

<h4>
 DONNA CAMERON is the author of
 A Year of Living Kindly. Here she reflects on the importance of
 creating space between stimulus and response in everyday life, learning
 to master the art of the pause.
 </h4>
 
 “Human freedom involves&nbsp;our capacity to pause, 
 to choose the one response toward&nbsp;which we wish to throw our
 weight.” 
 —Rollo May
 
 
 Some time ago, a friend happened to be looking at the huge collection of
 quotations I have tacked to a bulletin board covering one wall of my
 den. Inexplicably, she started to cry. Then she grabbed a pen from her
 purse and copied down this quotation from author and Holocaust survivor
 Viktor Frankl:
 
 
 “Between stimulus and response, there is a space. 
 In that space is our power to choose our response. 
 In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”
 
 
 “That’s it exactly,” she explained. “Whenever I’m tempted to take a
 drink, I need to pause in that space between stimulus and response. If I
 stop and think about it, I won’t drink. If I don’t, I slip and have a
 drink.” 
 I knew my friend was in AA and that sobriety was still a struggle for
 her.
 
 
 I thought about Frankl’s words and saw how many things they applied to.
 Not just alcohol, but overeating, smoking, spending … any number of
 actions we take automatically with little or no thought. We allow an
 addiction or a learned response to overtake our free will. And, as
 Frankl describes, each time we don’t give in to the reflex response, we
 grow and claim our own precious freedom a little more.
 
 
 His wise words are just as relevant to kindness. Approaching the post
 office not long ago, I saw a man blast his horn at a woman whose car was
 blocking his exit. When she didn’t move quickly, he blasted it again,
 and then a third time, even louder and longer.
 
 
 I’d like to think that if he had paused, perhaps he would have chosen a
 different response. Maybe he would have shrugged and looked at his watch
 and said, “I’ve got time.” Or maybe he would have tried for a quick tap
 on the horn to alert her to his car, instead of three sharp and
 aggressive blasts.
 
 
 I know I’ve been guilty of speaking sharply in response to someone
 else’s rudeness or bad behavior. But that’s their behavior. It becomes
 mine if I let their rudeness provoke me to similar conduct. I don’t have
 to do that. I have a choice. When I react in kind, it doesn’t improve
 the situation, and it doesn’t make me feel any better.
 
 
 <img
 class="has-img-center lazyload w-100 h-auto"
 src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/pause2_de4f673a07.jpg?updated_at=2023-04-05T10:46:21.925Z"
 alt="pause2"
 />
 
 
 I also know that when I snap back at someone (as often as not, my
 spouse), it’s because I’m tired, feeling overwhelmed, inadequate, or – I
 admit it – hungry. A timely pause can prevent me from saying or doing
 something I’ll later regret. It maintains harmony. A timely pause
 enables me to adjust my course and be the person I want to be. It’s one
 of those lessons we learn and relearn over and over, until finally the
 pause becomes the automatic response.
 
 <hr />
 <h5 style="text-align: center">
 A pause may give way to understanding; 
 it may silence hurtful words; it may avert a broken heart. 
 Instead of speaking or acting in instant response, 
 taking the time to pause and think about what I want my
 response 
 to activate – and why – has been transformative.
 </h5>
 <hr />
 
 There’s a reason why our mothers used to tell us to stop and count to
 ten when we got angry. It’s the power of the pause. There are things
 that need to be said and things that don’t need to be said. If we pause
 to think before we speak, we generally know the difference.
 
 
 Rotarians have the right idea. Rotary International – the service
 organization focused on human rights around the world – has a
 four-question test that helps members decide whether and how to act or
 speak. Before responding, they consider:
 
 Is it the truth?
 Is it fair to all concerned?
 Will it build goodwill and friendship?
 Will it be beneficial to all concerned?
 
 If the answer to any of these questions is no, they keep silent. Wise
 people, those Rotarians. Politicians could learn a lot from them.
 
 
 There is enormous power in something as simple as a pause. It allows us
 to delay long enough to decide if the action we’re contemplating will
 really get the result we want. Sometimes, when we hit pause, we
 recognize that we should make that pause permanent and simply do
 nothing, say nothing. The pause gives us the gift of grace.
 
 
 There is another time when the pause is a gift we offer ourselves – a
 gift of appreciation. Next time you perform an act of kindness, or you
 are the beneficiary of one, or you simply witness a kindness, pause and
 notice all the good things you are feeling. A pause allows us to
 acknowledge the importance of kindness in our lives, and to reaffirm the
 choice we have made to walk the path of kindness.
 
 
 I would put the power of the pause up against the power of the Hoover
 Dam. It’s that big. A pause may give way to understanding; it may
 silence hurtful words; it may avert a broken heart. Instead of speaking
 or acting in instant response, taking the time to pause and think about
 what I want my response to activate – and why – has been transformative.
 In the space of that brief pause, I might totally change my reaction, or
 perhaps decide not to respond at all. That pause has always guided me to
 a better place.
 
 
 A pause is not a vacant space. It’s a place of enormous potential and
 growth. It’s where we choose who we will be in this moment, and the
 next.
 
 
 Kindness in Action:
 
 
 Can you recall a situation where pausing before responding might have
 brought about a better outcome? Are there times when you know you are
 most likely to respond sharply or unkindly – such as when you are
 tired or frightened? Would a well-timed pause be welcome here? Set an
 intention to pause the next time your buttons are pushed. And the next
 time you experience or witness a kindness, pause to notice how it
 makes you feel.
 
 Reprinted with permission from the author.
 
 <img
 class="has-img-center lazyload"
 src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/livingkindly_8f059a2c94.jpg?updated_at=2023-04-05T10:47:01.216Z"
 alt="livingkindly"
 />
 
 
 <a
 href="https://ayearoflivingkindly.com/"
 target="_blank"
 rel="noopener noreferrer"
 >https://ayearoflivingkindly.com/</a
 >
 
 <hr />
 <h4 style="text-align: center">Article by DONNA CAMERON</h4>
 <hr />

The power of the pause

<h4>DONNA CAMERON is the author of A Year of Living Kindly. In this
 chapter from her book, she explores the significance of gratitude in daily life.</h4>
<h5 style="text-align: center;">“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life 
 is thank you, it will be enough.” 
 
 Meister Eckhart
</h5>
Many countries and cultures have holidays devoted to gratitude. Americans and Canadians
 celebrate Thanksgiving, though not on the same dates. It is an opportunity for us to pause and acknowledge our
 countries’ heritage and all we – collectively and individually – have to be thankful for. Ideally, we should be
 doing this every day of our lives, but sometimes business and busyness crowd out gratitude.
Throughout my year of living kindly, I noticed over and over that kindness and gratitude
 go hand in hand and augment one another. This is never more evident to me as when I spend time in Nature. Whether
 I’m hiking, relaxing on my deck with its view of the Cascade Mountains, or strolling my neighborhood, I often feel
 my heart opening to the nature around me – the flight and song of birds, the vast variety of trees and the way they
 change with the seasons, the surge of the creek in winter and its lazy amble in summer, the deer that visit our yard
 to nibble on the fallen apples. These things make me want to give back to the Earth and to my community.
I was attending a weekend conference in Pittsburgh during my year of living kindly. It
 was late May, and the weather was glorious. I had a free afternoon, so I walked to a nearby park and sat on a bench
 with a book. I divided my time between reading and appreciating the sights around me. The park was like a living
 organism – children playing on the lawn, couples strolling hand in hand, squirrels, dogs, flowers, and endless
 varieties of trees and birds. I remember feeling the overwhelming sense of how blessed I was to be able to
 experience it all – the park, the conference, the travel, the people I was meeting, and the ideas I was
 encountering. Gratitude filled every pore.
After a while, I walked to a local restaurant and ordered lunch. From my seat, I could
 still see the activity of the park and the bustle of Pittsburgh’s busy streets. I asked the waitress to box up my
 fruit salad and the remaining half of my sandwich, thinking they would make a fine dinner. Walking back toward my
 hotel, I felt the fullness of my life and the amazing privilege of when, where, and how I am living. A block or so
 from my hotel, I noticed an elderly man slumped in a wheelchair. At his side was a can with a few coins in it and a
 small cardboard sign with lettering that said, ‘Please help’.
<hr>
<h5 style="text-align: center;">Throughout my year of living kindly, 
 I noticed over and over that kindness 
 and gratitude go hand in hand and augment one another.
</h5>
<hr>
<img decoding="async" class="lazyload img-float-left has-img-center-in-mobile"
 src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/gratitude_compassion2_min_cdba7ae246.jpg?updated_at=2023-04-05T11:04:48.643Z">

I stopped and greeted him. Then I said, “I have half a turkey sandwich here and some
 fruit salad. Would you like them?” 
 His eyes widened and he said, “I surely would.” 
 I handed the restaurant bag to him and reached into my purse for a couple of dollars, which I also handed him. We
 talked for a minute or two, and I noticed how his eyes held a lively twinkle. When I resumed my walk toward my
 hotel, I felt even lighter and happier than I had before. My brief interaction with the man had felt good. While I’m
 sure he appreciated the sandwich and the few dollars I handed him, I sensed that even more, he appreciated being
 seen. He was used to people averting their eyes, ignoring him as they quickly walked by, even occasionally dropping
 some change or a couple of dollars into his can but then rushing off without a word. The gratitude I had been
 feeling opened me to extending a kindness and offering not just the gift of food or money, but the gift of my
 genuine attention. There was no question in my mind, though, that I had received the greater gift that afternoon.

I saw that when I am in touch with my gratitude, kindness flows naturally and
 effortlessly. If kindness feels hard to summon, I’ve learned that taking a moment to appreciate my surroundings, my
 friends and loved ones, or little things that fill me with delight, inspires a surge of kindness.
I’ve come to see that there are many ways that kindness and gratitude together produce
 almost alchemical results.
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">SLOWING DOWN</h4>
Both gratitude and kindness ask us to slow down. Slowing down isn’t always easy in our
 overscheduled and overactive lives. I often feel like I’m rushing from one deadline to the next, one obligation to
 the next, ruled by a lengthy to-do list. But slowing down is essential if we are to notice and appreciate the
 sunrise, the crocuses bursting forth, the birds circling overhead like ice-skaters with wings. And slowing down is
 essential if we are to notice the smile on the cashier’s face, the door held open for us, or the myriad
 opportunities before us each day to extend our own kindnesses.
<hr>
<h5 style="text-align: center;">I’ve learned that taking a moment 
 to appreciate my surroundings, 
 my friends and loved ones, 
 or little things that fill me with delight, 
 inspires a surge of kindness.
</h5>
<hr>
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">AN OPEN HEART</h4>
When I experience gratitude, my heart feels open. It is a feeling of abundance and
 sufficiency. This is all I need. It is also a feeling of presence – what happened five minutes ago doesn’t matter,
 and what will happen five minutes from now doesn’t matter. I am in the moment.
Likewise, the experience of kindness – whether given, received, or even just witnessed –
 opens my heart and allows me to feel fully present in the moment. For that brief moment, kindness is all that
 matters. It reminds me of one of my very favorite quotes, by Henry James: “Three things in human life are important.
 The first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; and the third is to be kind.”
Abundance is also a companion of kindness. If we believe we are enough, we can easily
 believe we have enough. Both of these beliefs help us to reserve judgment and extend kindness. And that sense of
 abundance, whether related to gratitude or kindness – or most likely, both – inspires us to be generous with our
 time, our words, our deeds, and our resources.
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 src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/gratitude_compassion3_min_1aab042a9c.jpg?updated_at=2023-04-05T11:05:58.111Z">

<h4 style="text-align: justify;">NEGATIVE EMOTIONS</h4>
I’ve found that it’s difficult to be angry or fearful when one experiences gratitude. If
 my heart is grateful, I feel no need to summon ire if I am cut off in traffic or spoken to harshly. I’m less likely
 to be frightened by a new or daunting situation. Perhaps there’s simply no space for these emotions when I am filled
 with gratitude, or maybe gratitude has a way of neutralizing the effects of these negative emotions.
This belief is often challenged when I hear about the most recent terrorist attack or
 the latest mass shooting. Those events spawn fear and anger, not just in the people directly affected, but in people
 all over the world. While there may also be gratitude that one’s family and friends were spared, and gratitude for
 the outpouring of support for the victims, can gratitude completely rout the fear and anger? I think not. But maybe
 there can be moments when gratitude at least overrides fear and lets us see that there is much to appreciate, even
 in the midst of terror attacks, natural disasters, or personal catastrophe. Maybe it’s gratitude that helps us
 recover from the worst things that can befall us.
<img decoding="async" class="lazyload w-100"
 src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/gratitude_compassion4_min_d36e8086db.jpg?updated_at=2023-04-05T11:08:22.710Z">

<h4 style="text-align: justify;">SERVICE TO THE PLANET</h4>
When we are grateful for something, our instinct is to protect and defend it. If we
 stand in awe at the edge of the ocean, or if we marvel at the canopy of trees above us as we hike through the nearby
 hills, our natural desire is to shield them from harm, to assure that they will always be there for us and for
 future generations to appreciate. Our gratitude puts us in service to life – what could be more important?
Kindness, too, places us in service to life. We feel a physical connection to our
 surroundings and to the people around us when we engage in kind acts. Both the acts and the sense of connection are
 our acknowledgment that the ultimate kindness is to honor the earth and our fellow inhabitants – human and
 otherwise. A healthy planet and sustainable practices are the kindest gifts we can offer one another and the
 generations that follow us.
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">GRATITUDE PRACTICES</h4>
It’s lovely if gratitude comes to us frequently and effortlessly, but that is not always
 the case. Gratitude, like kindness, tennis, or piano-playing, is strengthened with practice. The more we do it, the
 more we experience it, and the better we become at expressing it. If you do an online search for ‘gratitude
 practices’ you will find countless suggestions, from daily meditation, to keeping a gratitude journal, to prayer. I
 try to spend a few moments each morning before I get up thinking about the things I have to be grateful for. Another
 creative approach is to create ‘trigger’ occasions that you use to establish a habit of gratitude. For example,
 every time you stop at a red light, use the moment to think of something you’re grateful for.
<img decoding="async" class="w-100"
 src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/gratitude_compassion5_min_d9dbd603c0.jpg?updated_at=2023-04-05T11:07:21.169Z">

There’s another splendid gratitude practice that I love and practice occasionally.
 Physician and teacher Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen teaches this exercise that she learned from anthropologist Angeles
 Arrien. It’s simple and takes very little time. Here’s all you do:
At the end of each day, sit down for a few minutes and answer these questions:
What surprised me today? 
 What moved or touched me today? 
 What inspired me today?
<hr>
<h5 style="text-align: center;">When I experience gratitude, 
 my heart feels open. 
 It is a feeling of abundance and sufficiency. 
 This is all I need.
</h5>
<hr>
Your answers can be just a few words. What you’re trying to do is summon the memory of
 things that moved you.
As Dr. Remen describes, “The most interesting thing happens, then. Often people are
 surprised eight or nine hours after something happens when they look back on it deliberately. But [by doing this
 exercise] that gap shortens until eventually they are able to see in the very moment what surprises them, what
 touches them, and what inspires them. And then everything changes. The world has not changed, but they have begun to
 be able to see the world, and they can communicate that experience. … It changes everything. It’s a question of
 paying attention.”
It’s true. At first this is difficult. You may come up blank day after day. “Nothing
 surprised me,” or “Nothing inspired me.” But if you keep searching, you will think of something. “Oh, yes, I was
 touched when I saw those children playing in the park.” And just as Dr. Remen says, with practice you begin to
 notice things that touch or surprise or inspire you the moment they happen. That creates an enduring state of
 gratitude, not to mention presence.
<h4 style="text-align: justify;"><img decoding="async" class="lazyload img-float-left has-img-center-in-mobile"
 src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/gratitude_compassion6_min_2e808fe895.jpg?updated_at=2023-04-05T11:10:08.765Z">
</h4>
One of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves is taking the time to think about what
 we are grateful for – both the obvious and the small, hidden, even quirky things that enrich life. Daily recognition
 of the multitude of big and little things we have to be grateful for is a wonderful way to live in perpetual
 thanksgiving.
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">KINDNESS IN ACTION</h4>
Make an effort to say ‘thank you’ more often in your daily interactions, and when you
 say it, mean it.
If you don’t already have one, think about a daily gratitude practice that will work for
 you – a gratitude journal, a few moments of reflection, a trigger activity, perhaps Rachel Remen’s simple exercise –
 then try it for three weeks. Notice whether it changes your awareness of how many things there are in your life to
 be grateful for. Notice also if it makes you more aware of kindness – your own and others’.
If you find yourself in a situation that may provoke anger or fear, try summoning
 gratitude to counteract their effects. Talk about gratitude with your family. Perhaps make it a game at the dinner
 table, or when you’re on a long drive, to name all the things you have to be grateful for.
<hr>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">Article by DONNA CAMERON</h4>
<hr>

Gratitude is a companion to kindness

<h4>DONNA CAMERON explores the beauty that vulnerability brings and its connection
 with kindness. She also shares her own personal experience of vulnerability and how it has changed her life for the
 better.</h4>
<hr class="vertical-space1">
A gift is like a seed; it is not an impressive
 thing. 
 It is what can grow from the seed that is impressive. 
 If we wait until our seed becomes a tree before we offer it, 
 we will wait and wait, and the seed will die from lack of planting.
 … 
 The miracle is not just the gift;&nbsp;the
 miracle is in the offering, 
 for if we do not offer, who will?

—WAYNE MULLER
<hr class="vertical-space1">
In high-tech parlance, vulnerability refers to a weakness or flaw that allows an
 attacker to access a computer without the owner’s permission. In human terms, vulnerability describes our
 susceptibility to being wounded or injured, and also the state of being exposed – to danger, illness, or criticism.
 For many of us, vulnerability implies weakness. It is something to be avoided.
But is it? Vulnerability may be our way of opening ourselves to the world, and trusting
 that it is not against us. It may be our way of embracing mystery and not pushing the unknown or the unseen away
 from us. It may be the truest way of saying “yes” to our lives.
In a relationship, we may be vulnerable when we are first to say “I love you,” or when
 we admit we don’t know something, or that we need help. Our comfort and security are threatened by the “power” we
 believe we have given the other person. Will he say he loves me back? Will she take advantage of my weakness if I
 ask for help? Yes, those fears are real. But another way to look at them is to recognize the strength they reveal
 and to take ownership of that strength. There is no shame in loving, even if the other person doesn’t love me back.
 There is no shame in asking for help, even if it isn’t given. The weakness is in burying our feelings or denying our
 need.
Dr. Brené Brown, research professor at the University of Houston, describes how
 vulnerability is a trait that wholehearted people share. As she explains in a remarkable TED Talk and in her
 audiobook, The Power of Vulnerability: Teachings on Authenticity, Connection, and Courage, vulnerability is
 the courage to be imperfect, to do something where there are no guarantees, and to let go of who we think we should
 be in order to be what we really are. With this willingness, we “allow ourselves to be seen,” with all our
 imperfections, in order to fully embrace our lives. Dr. Brown further explains that many of us erroneously believe
 that we can selectively numb our emotions; that we can stifle grief, shame, fear, and disappointment while fully
 retaining our joy, gratitude, and happiness. It doesn’t work that way. If we suppress the negative emotions, we do
 the same to the positive ones. Accepting our vulnerability and living wholeheartedly means understanding that the
 good, the bad, and even the ugly are what make us authentic and beautiful. That place of vulnerability, she says, is
 the birthplace of joy, creativity, belonging, and love.
<div class="text-center">
 <img alt="kindness-and-vulnerability" class="lazyload has-img-center mb-4"
 src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/Kindness2_2227d7e963.jpg?updated_at=2023-04-07T14:02:57.953Z">
</div>
Whether we’re committing to love, or art, or business, or kindness, we must have the courage to do it wholeheartedly,
 in spite of the fact that we know there will always be those who find us lacking. Knowing this is incredibly
 freeing! We can’t please everyone. Not ever. So we need to stop trying and focus instead on being who we are meant
 to be.
The more I think about it, the more deeply I see the connection between kindness and vulnerability. I’ve talked
 before about the difference between being kind and being nice. Nice does not require me to be vulnerable. I can be
 nice without risk, and without exposing too much of myself. I can be nice without making a connection, or without
 really caring whether or not you benefit from the encounter. Nice, while pleasant, doesn’t require sincerity or
 commitment. When I’m nice, I remain safe, guarded from exposure.
Kind is very different. Kind means connecting; it means being aware and intentional about the impact my words and
 actions have; it means expending energy and effort, and caring about the outcome. It means exposing my truest self
 in all my imperfections. It also means suspending judgments and accepting people as they are. Kind can be messy, and
 it may take me to places where I am awkward, clumsy, and tongue-tied. Kindness requires me to take risks. In short,
 kindness requires me to be vulnerable.
<div class="text-center">
 <img alt="kindness-and-vulnerability" class="lazyload has-img-center mb-4"
 src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/Kindness3_47c461c863.jpg?updated_at=2023-04-07T14:03:40.595Z">
</div>
Since making a commitment to living kindly, I have tried to replace nice with kind. The distinction may not have been
 noticeable to anyone but me. But my noticing it is really all that matters. Whether acknowledging someone’s
 assistance, explaining a new process, or giving a couple of dollars to someone in need, I try to make a connection,
 even if it’s only fleeting. Taking the time to make eye contact, exchange a few words, and convey that I see a
 person and recognize their value – these small actions convey our shared humanity and our shared vulnerability. It
 feels good.
My upbringing – and I suspect I am not alone in this – was one where I was encouraged to be smart. Grades were
 important to my parents, and I was rewarded for good ones. Poor grades (that is, anything less than an A) were a
 disappointment, and I dreaded the thought of disappointing my parents. Being smart and being right became important
 to my identity. School and career generally reinforced the importance of those qualities. There came a point,
 though, when I started to see that I wasn’t always smart, and I certainly wasn’t always right. At first, this felt
 threatening. If I admit how little I know about this subject or this new technology, will people assume I’m
 ignorant? Will I be giving up some imaginary advantage I have? It took both courage and a willingness to be
 vulnerable to start saying, “I don’t understand,” or “Please show me how this works.” It took even more to ask to be
 shown again when the first lesson didn’t “take.”
Rather than judging me harshly, I saw that people welcomed my questions. They appreciated the opportunity to share
 knowledge in areas where they excelled. I learned to ask questions that deepened my understanding. I breathed a sigh
 of relief that I was not expected to know everything, understand everything, or always be right. I didn’t have to
 fake knowledge I didn’t have. I was surrounded by smart people and, in aggregate, we were very, very smart. The
 other thing I saw when I was willing to show my vulnerability and admit my ignorance or inexperience was that others
 seemed more comfortable coming to me to either ask my help or admit when they needed help. 
 I think it must be very lonely to feel you must always have the answers or be the smartest person in the room.
<hr>
<h5 style="text-align: center;">To make that deep connection, 
 we have to allow ourselves to be seen. 
 That means having the courage to be imperfect, 
 to expose our flaws, 
 and the willingness to be vulnerable.
</h5>
<hr>
There is even a vulnerability to writing or speaking about kindness, and inviting people to read or hear my thoughts.
 Sharing my deepest thoughts – what matters most to me – opens me to their judgment, perhaps to criticism. Beyond
 that, am I saying too much about myself? Too little? Am I pontificating (oh, I hope not!)? Has it all been said
 before and said better? Am I missing the point entirely?
If I allow myself to be vulnerable, the answer is that it doesn’t matter. As Brené Brown eloquently explains,
 connection is why we’re all here, sharing this planet, and it’s what gives meaning and purpose to our lives.
You may feel awkward, exposed, or uncomfortable when you first start heeding the call to kindness. Good! That means
 you’ve tapped into your vulnerability. Embrace it, and keep allowing your kindness to grow.
Living our most authentic life, whatever that means to each of us, requires that we let go of our shield and lower
 our guard, and that we embrace our flaws and our vulnerability. For me – and perhaps for you – it’s choosing
 kindness. It’s scary, but the rewards of living an authentic life are beyond measure.
<hr>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">Kindness in Action</h3>
<img alt="kindness-and-vulnerability" class="img-float-left has-img-center-in-mobile"
 src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/Kindness4_ba06e48490.jpg?updated_at=2023-04-07T14:04:23.353Z">Can you think of a time when you felt vulnerable? Recall the situation and your
 response.
Did you back away to “safety”? Or did you forge ahead?
Either way, try to imagine the outcome of the situation had you done the opposite of
 what you did. Maybe it feels better, or maybe worse, but can you feel the strength of your response when you
 accept your vulnerability?
Think about the you that most people see: Is that person authentic and real, or are you
 projecting only what you think they want to see, or what you feel safe allowing to be seen?
What is your relationship to perfection? Do you strive for it, or do you recognize that
 perfection is a myth that keeps us from being the interesting, contradictory, and often messy human beings that
 we all are at our core?
Are there messages you received as a child that no longer serve you but that you
 continue to hold onto?
If you’re a parent, do the messages your children receive encourage them to be
 authentic and vulnerable, or to strive for impossible perfection?
<hr>
If you haven’t seen Brené Brown’s TED Talk, make yourself a cup of tea and google it. It will be a very worthwhile
 twenty minutes!
Reprinted with permission from the author, from her book, A Year of Living
 Kindly.
<hr>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">Article by DONNA CAMERON 
 Illustrations by JASMEE RATHOD</h4>
<hr>

Donna Cameron

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