Human Kindness

There was an article in the paper today about a little dog called Bibi, that got blown off a pier in Melbourne. The windy weather was so powerful that little Bibi simply trotted air-bourn off the edge of the pier and into the frigid north Melbourne Ocean.

Bibi’s owner watched helplessly from the pier edge and her little pet tried desperately to swim back to shore in the freezing temperature, battling wave upon wave which relentlessly held him back and pulled him down.

In the midst of all this, a young man was also visiting the pier to scatter his grandmother’s ashes into the ocean. While deep in ritual and farewell, he spotted the precarious fate of little Bibi and thought nothing of diving into the icy waters to rescue one very sodden, very cold miniature canine.

A Midler song sprung to mind… just one line. ‘Human kindness is overflowing, and I think it’s going to rain today’. Buried in the pages of global crisis, earth quakes, human loss, scandal – the story of a dog made the greatest impact on my day. Maybe it’s because I love dogs so much, perhaps because little Bibi reminded me of my much loved furry ruffians. I don’t really care to analyse why I felt the way I felt, but that it hurts and feels good in equal parts to know that there are those that cannot defend themselves and then there are those who would risk it all to do it for them.

It's just goes round and round.

We had a discussion. It wasn’t such a big thing, but more a number of little things. The pile just grew larger, nothing spectacular, just a lot of little niggles, little burrs hidden in the fabric I wear, not distinct enough to be visible, but just annoying enough to keep my busy twitching in discomfort.

I’ve been learning things these past months. Learning things about myself and others, about environment and responses and understanding and patience. I’ve been learning to replace emotion with consideration, action with deliberation, anger with empathy, voice with ear.

I discovered that my greatest fears are embarrassment, loss, translucency and unimportance. I didn’t like that I do so much for so many people and find myself measuring the weight of their love by the response that they give. I felt hypocritical for not giving unconditionally, but more so for believing that I did and ignoring the voice that whispered in my ear each time I gave and felt let down.

I find myself chewing wasps. I don’t like talking ill of people, but as the feelings of disappointment weighed down on me, I whispered them in secrecy, wanting a nod in agreement and tasting the bitter flavour of disloyalty when it came. It is a double edged sword as they say and while I wish I were more saint than sinner, I realise that I am fallible. A giver of gifts with no evident value, but still measurable in my head.

So, we had a disagreement and it irks me to say that the learnings I have made these past months gave me clarity. If I do not like what you ask and expect of me, if I feel used and of lesser value against others you call friends, then it is my interpretation of who I think you think I am and what I think you think I am worth. And so there it is, as confusing as that, yet strangely straightforward. I felt you let me down, not once or twice, but many times. I felt you’d placed a measure of our friendship below where I thought it was. I realised that each of the times an event occurred I was left questioning my value to you, I chalked it up and tucked it away, but I’ve had enough. I decided that how I felt in a situation could only be fixed by me. I chose to be honest, I chose to tell you what I thought and felt. I don’t know if I am right, but at the end of it I cried and you said all the things I wanted to hear. And then it occurred to me that you were sitting on the other end of the phone feeling exactly as I felt. Perhaps you and I just didn’t agree. Perhaps you felt it your right to ask of me things that I would never ask of you, perhaps I was wrong to think that you shouldn’t. I don’t know what the answer is, but I know that I the gap is vast now and that I do not like how I feel when we are together.

I keep holding on, because I miss my friend. We used to have so much fun together. We’d talk for hours and we had respect for one another. We protected and understood one another. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know if it is my fault, but I don’t like to feel this way. What happened to our freedom? What happened to the way we liberated one another. I’m concerned about what conversations we will have and what I might be asked for. I don’t want to just fill half empty cups and provide a shoulder to lean on. I’m not only here to fix things. I don’t like that my space is just a place you flounce through, it’s not a hotel, where a servant is paid to clean up behind you. I’m sad at the flippancy with which my things are taken and consumed as if I have it all and therefore am expected to share it. I’m sad that when you offer something I am suspicious of the honesty of it. I am wracked with guilt that I can’t look at you without squinting when you suggest or promise or propose something totally selfless. I want to say yes, I want to smile and throw my arms around you, but I’m apprehensive. Too many times I’ve taken a gift to find it has a price – conscious or otherwise – a gift with fine print listing out terms and conditions I never thought would apply. Terms and conditions I don’t even think you realise always turn up at some point on each timeline.

I’m a coward, because I can’t tell you. I don’t like this merry-go-round.. it’s not merry, it’s just go-round.