I put on my stage clothes, my
particular shoes. My notes unfold
themselves, each letter
connected appropriately, following
the others like trains on rails.
Your fingers deftly snatch each of
them from the ground and toss
them into disrespected heaps of toys.
I could let my rounded lips loose,
my staccato consonants pelting
you like sleet, but kindness is one
of the things that’s important, like
oxygen. It can even control the
weather. I bundle this fact in paper
so you’ll have to unwrap it over time,
if you can find it, while I stare at my
particular shoes.
Tag / kindness
Purple-Booted Herbivore
I don’t get angry very
often. It generally doesn’t
occur to me to be offended. I
tend to say yes, have grace, give
room for people to feel. Am I
people? Do I matter? And
why? So many minds smarter,
more talented hands, hearts
more acclimated to a harsh
environment. I am one
whisper in a yelling world, an
herbivore, a lavender sweater,
a stare-at-my-toes-in-my-new-shoes-
and-fall-off-the-sidewalk kind of
girl. I have trouble crying unless
I don’t and the sob-waves pound
my internal shore as they do
silently whenever anything
suffers. That’s a lot, you know.
And look at that. I see my
shoes and they’re sassy, purple
boots with some swagger, after
all. I can feel the groaning of the
earth through the soles of my feet
and still paint my toenails
blue. I can stand with my face to
the long wail of industrial
tyranny and still hold down a
job. My heart can travel in
and out of my chest and still I
keep myself in surgery knowing
you, and her and them and us and
knowing I will be broken forever
just by the love-giving moment when
I no longer own
my self.
And I’ll do it anyway because I
am strong.
I am fierce. I have something to
say. Stop yelling a while and
you’ll hear.
Wearing Kindness Like Clothes
My chiropractor is one of my most favorite people in the entire universe. If I were to meet someone from another planet I’d be enormously pleased (especially if s/he decided not to wipe out the human species because of our sheer stupidity in defiling our own environment), but that new and wondrous species would still have to compete with Dr. Abrahamson for my affections. In fact, if I were to create a top ten list of my favorite people, Dr. A would be on it. I know. This list is so short that you may be wondering about my family values, so it’s important to point out that love is only a portion of this equation. I dearly love my entire family. However, some family members are in desperate need of therapy, and because of this I can’t really trust them with my true self just yet. I completely befuddle other family members. I say something that to me seems completely innocuous, and they look at me as though I’ve turned into a fuzzy, green dream-beast. It’s kind of hard to be myself with them, too. I have two cousins, neither of whom I’d recognize if I met them on the sidewalk. They were known to be creative and somewhat rebellious as kids, though, so we might get along just fine.
The requirements in this particular scenario involve much more than just love. Some of my top ten favorite people are in that group largely because of their therapeutic hugs or their capacity to have stimulating conversation. One of them has swum with the sharks in San Francisco Bay, cries at the drop of a hat and is someone who always has your back. I don’t even talk very much with another one of them, but I know in my deepest self that he cares for and accepts me deeply, and I could call him if I were in trouble. There are more, but the thing they all have in common is that they accept me as I am, and are willing to work through difficult relational moments to get to the good stuff. We don’t have to agree.
Now, it’s true, I don’t hang out with Dr. A outside his office, but at this point I’ve spent one to two hours with him, three to four times a week, for the last eight months. Many weeks I’ve spent more time with him than I’ve spent with any of my friends. I pay him for his time, but after all of those visits, I know that although he has to make a living and certainly earns his payment, he’s in the business of healing because he wants to help people. If I get cold in the office he brings me a fuzzy blanket, and if I’m lying down he tucks in my feet. He genuinely cares about how I feel, both physically and emotionally.
A year ago I wasn’t really sure if I believed in chiropractic medicine at all. Then I decided to leave my comfort zone and try something new, and that’s when I went to a not-so-great chiropractor and came away with a herniated disc, three bulging ones, and radically asymmetrical hips. I admire asymmetry in so many ways, but not hips. Crooked hips cause problems. And no one really straightens them out except for chiropractors, so I had to dive back in and try somebody new. My rattling hips meant business.
I heard of Dr. Abrahamson through a friend and scheduled an appointment. I took Keith with me to his office and looked at him warily. I did that for about three seconds before knowing in the core of my being that this tall, white haired, blue eyed Scandinavian was one of the safe people. He’s one of those persons who wear kindness like clothes.
My hips aren’t as crooked any more. Going to see him makes me feel safe, and somewhere in the middle of my appointment this generalized anxiety disorder sufferer manages to relax and really breathe. And ever so slowly my back is improving. I’m just endlessly grateful for all the gifts he gives me in addition to relief from back pain. He is my friend, and he helps me imagine what a soft-spoken, empathetic father might look like. I admire him, because I want to wear kindness like clothes, too. When I really get down to it, I think there are more than 10 people on my list of favorites. There are so many different things to admire in different people. Acceptance of others though, that’s crucial, and I want it to grow within myself. I want people to feel like they could wear their flannel pajamas around me and be perfectly comfortable. And maybe if we all work on that, our interstellar neighbors will want to be friends when they find us.