You’ve probably seen them. People wearing t-shirts that say some form of “Be a Good Person.” Or another version “Just be a Good Human.” Or, “If you can be anything, be kind.” Each time I encounter someone wearing this adorning their chest it lifts my spirits and reminds me once again that, mostly, people really want to put their best selves into the world. And they want to encourage others to do the same. Though what we read or see in the news accounts of our daily walk is often to the contrary, there are people walking around who have made it their mission to say, “Hey, wait a minute. There’s another way.”

I thought about this message when reading about Joe Mauer, a favorite player for the Minnesota Twins who was recently inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. For those who have followed him and like to wave their Minnesota pride at any opportunity, Mauer is a St. Paul boy who played his whole career for his hometown team, and this honor seemed so deserved.. I remember seeing him play once when he came back after an injury that had sidelined him for a long time. When he walked onto the field the crowd went ballistic as he came to the plate. He did not disappoint as he hit a home run first thing. I can still get a little emotional thinking about that moment. 

But what struck me in the newspaper account of his career was that his Mother, who has always been a significant influence in his life, always told him two things: Be a good competitor but first be a good person. From what I read and hear about him, he has embodied that message and sends that goodness into the world. Well done, Mom.

Last week I was sitting having lunch in a favorite cafe. I was reading a book that was really engaging and eating a sandwich, drinking an iced tea. I was pretty engrossed in my reading and not paying full attention as I sat my glass down on the edge of a tray. It tipped sending tea and ice onto the table, the opposite chair and the floor. Before I could even get to my feet to begin clean up, a young woman who had been sitting nearby jumped up, grabbed extra napkins and started mopping up my mess. All the time I was thanking her she was saying”It’s okay. It’s okay.” We both righted the situation and sat back to finish our lunch as I looked around at all the other folks who had also witnessed my faux-pas. Perhaps one of them would have joined in to help me but this young woman had acted so quickly in her effort to be a good person that they didn’t have the chance. Needless to say, my sense of the goodness of humans was lifted high that day.

Later that day as I was cleaning and organizing some papers, I came across this poem I had kept from a journal of my college alma mater. It is titled “The Whole Shebang Up for Debate” by Laura M. Andre:

Today I gave a guy a ride,
caught in a cloudburst
jogging down East Mill Street.
Skinny, backpacked, newspaper
a makeshift shield, unsafe
under any circumstances.
I don’t know what possessed me.

I make bad decisions, am forgetful,
cling to structure and routine
like static electricity to polyester,
a. predicament of living under
the facade I always add to myself.

Said he needed to catch a GoBus,
shaking off droplets before climbing in.
He gabbed about Thanksgiving plans,
his mom’s cider basted turkey,
grandma’s pecan crusted pumpkin pie.

It was a quick masked ride.
Bless you, he said, unfolding himself
from the car. No awkward goodbyes,
no what do I owe you? Just Bless you
and a backward wave.

At the stop sign, my fingers stroked
the dampness where he sat minutes before.

Sometimes life embraces you
so unconditionally, it shifts
your body from shadow
into a full flung lotus of light.

We could argue at the wisdom of such an encounter yet what is clear in this story is that the writer chose not only to see the goodness in another but also to send goodness into the world. The young woman who helped clean up a mess I had created chose, quickly I might add, to act out of goodness. In a time when competition can lead people to not only use hurtful, unkind words and actions, may we all err on the side of being good humans, shifting our bodies…and perhaps the whole world… from shadow into a ‘full flung lotus of light.’

Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in.
Breathing out, I know that I am breathing out.
Breathing in, I see myself as a flower.
Breathing out, I feel flesh.
Breathing in, I see myself as a mountain.
Breathing out, I feel solid.
Breathing in, I see myself as still water.
Breathing out, I reflect things as they are.
Breathing in, I see myself as space.
Breathing out, I feel free.
~Thich Nhat Hahn

It is taking a lot to breathe these days Or at least it is taking intentional effort on my part to do so. With the world whirling so fast and in such a chaotic fashion, I find myself actually holding my breath quite often. Never a good thing. Which may be the reason that this poem by the beloved Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hahn, floated to the surface of my consciousness earlier today. I actually didn’t remember whose words they were but knew that I had to find them to see if they were speaking to me as I thought they might be. A quick scan of my book shelves unearthed this gem. Ahhhh…

These words along with a particular image have been bringing some solace to my days. I shared the image below with some friends on Friday saying how it seems to represent how I feel., how I am trying to be in the face of it all. The image is of a statue found in Savannah, Georgia one of my favorite cities. The statue gained fame for being on the cover of a book later made into a movie: Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt. At one point it stood in a cemetery there and featured prominently in the movie. It had to be removed and placed in a museum after the movie as it was feared it would be damaged by over-interested visitors. Its original title is simply Bird Girl and the way she holds out her arms, two vessels balanced by her straight body and ever so slightly tilted head seems to create the posture I find myself wanting to take. 

Breathing in, I hold all the turmoil that swarms around. Breathing out, I gaze out at the beauty of my summer garden. Breathing in, I wonder at what seems to me the drive to divide people into categories that are dehumanizing, are not only unkind but also unjust. Breathing out, I marvel at the kindness that I encounter ever day from friends, family, neighbors, strangers. Breathing in, I grapple with despair and fear for what seems to be happening to our country, our world. Breathing out, I look with awe at the faces of the babies, the toddlers, the children that weave in and out of my life. Breathing in, I read or hear words that are mean and cutting and even cruel. Breathing out, I read poems and stories so filled with beauty and inspiration that my spirit is given to floating above my body.

Bird Girl reminds me that I, that we, live in a both/and world and that to live wisely, sanely, means to hold all the beauty and the terror in our outstretched hands…every day…every moment…with every breath. When I gaze on her slightly bent head I imagine what that bend means. “Really?” she might be saying. Or “Look at this.” Or even “Please.” My need to create a story for her is pretty strong.

Perhaps all that bent head is portraying is the truth that holding that balance is difficult work. Sometimes sorrowful work. Almost always courageous work. And then just when it all seems too much to bear, a tiny bird lands on one bowl and sings there a song so beautiful, so pure that hearts are broken open at the miracle of it. 

Breathing in…breathing out. Both. And. So it goes. So it goes.  

Intention. I have been thinking about intention over the last weeks. How to live intentionally, kindly, sanely, in the midst of all that is churning in every direction in our country and the world. I have been trying to come to some inner understanding of how it is best for me to be aware of what is going on without giving in to despair and fear with the uncertainty that grips us.The word intention keeps coming to my mind as if placed there by an outer force and I have decided to pay attention to it. 

Mulling over this word, intention, I was reminded of the author and poet Ross Gay who wrote a book of essays called The Book of Delights. One year on his birthday he decided that he would write a short essay every day for the next year about something that delighted him during the day. He is a writing professor and set this intention for himself amongst all the other writing and teaching that must have filled his life. Krista Tippett has interviewed him and he talks about how the intention he set…to watch for and experience delights…seemed to actually give rise to even greater delights. Sounds like a pretty good thing to me. He has since published another book, The Book of More Delights. It seems that delight must breed delight!

During April which is National Poetry Month, I set an intention to write a poem a day. I stayed pretty loyal to the daily practice though some days I wrote only a haiku. Still a poem, right? And though none of the poems were good, what I found was that the intention had me thinking more poetically. I would notice something…a flower or the smile on someone’s face…and short, descriptive phrases would pop into my mind, a snippet of a poem. It brought a kind of gentle lilt to my day and made my mood lighter.

A true poet, Molly Fisk, wrote this lovely reminder entitled ‘Against Panic’:
You recall those times, I know you do, when the sun
lifted its weight over a small rise to warm your face,
when a parched day finally broke open, real rain,
sluicing down the sidewalk, rattling city maples
and you so sure the end was here, life a house of cards
tipped over, falling, hope’s last breath extinguished
in a bitter wind. Oh, friend, search your memory again –
beauty and relief are still there, only sleeping.

Reading her words and Ross Gay’s reflections on delight have instilled in me the intention to pay more attention to those experiences of gentleness and beauty that are the gift of every day. As I did one morning this past week when I sat at my local coffee shop and watched the sunlight pour into the window illuminating the lovingly planted flowers that were waking up again and directing their faces toward the new day. What lessons were they holding out to me?

There is much in our world over which we have little control. We do what we can…contribute, have conversation, contact those in office, learn as much as we can, make our voices heard, vote, and, if you are praying person, pray. I do not want to give myself to the intention of despair. Instead I want wake every day and set an intention to search for what brings beauty and relief to a fractured, hurting world. Perhaps if we all search our memories we can wake that spirit of hope together.