Blog
How to be Kind and Creative in a Crazy World
May/2021
What if, instead of trying to avoid the scary stuff
I look it square in the eyes, even give it a little wink?
This is the question I put to myself as I approach this blog. It will keep me company while I write.
“Hello fear/panic/anxiety – whatever you want to call yourself. Look at me! I’m writing my first blog!”(wink)
I want to leap in with gusto and maybe even a smattering of abandon! Why not? Who cares? No one but me and my neurosis give a flying fuck, and I’m getting too damn long in the tooth to be taking that too seriously. I want to channel my inner Little My. I’m a big fan of the Moomin characters, (except the Snorkmaiden. Sorry) but Little My is a firm favourite. Even though she is very small indeed, nobody would dream of messing with her.
I think about my child self, how fearful she was and how hard she tried to be a 'good girl'. I always tried my best to do what i thought was the ‘right thing’. The ‘good girl’ theme went up in flames during my adolescence I’m glad to say, but the fearfulness that had inspired it didn’t go away. Instead it mutated into new formations. But that’s for another day. Suffice to say Little My could have taught me a thing or two. I imagine she would have looked up at me with her mean little eyes and said “Loosen up! Stop taking yourself so seriously! You’re not having enough fun!” If only she had been there to give me a shove.
Well, it’s never too late!
So here I am, starting a blog that will explore ‘How to be Kind and Creative in a Crazy World’, because I believe that these are the two most important things that a human being can be. At least that is my truth. In my experience, everything necessary for a meaningful life follows on from the commitment to these two principals. I don’t want the ‘How to’ in the title to give the impression that I think I have this one down and will be writing a prescriptive list. That definitely ain’t the case. But ‘Grappling with How to be Kind and Creative in a Crazy World’ is just too bloody long a title. So please understand, it’s ‘grappling with’ that I’m doing here. I hope you will grapple with me!
And to be clear, when I say ‘kind’ I’m not talking about being ‘nice’. It’s not about saying what you think others want to hear and not upsetting people. It’s much bigger than that. True kindness requires for us to be open to vulnerability and pain – your own and that of others. It means taking a stand for what you know is right. And this requires a generous and open heart, as well as honesty, compassion and courage.
Five years ago, when I turned fifty, I created The Kind Project. I made fifty dolls to symbolise acceptance of the female body, and I put them up for sale for a charity that is fighting to bring an end to female genital mutilation. (If you want to know more, look under Art – ‘The Kind Project’ page for full details and to support the project.) I called it ‘The Kind Project’ because I wanted to inspire kindness for the female body, which undergoes such extreme level of objectification, criticism and assault. And I want anyone who buys a doll to hang her on their wall as a regular reminder to practice acceptance and kindness for their own body.
Six months after I started the project I happened to come across something amazing in the wonderful book The Woman's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets by Barbara G. Walker. Under the origin of the word ‘Cunt’ it says – ‘Derivative of the Oriental Great Goddess as Cunti, or Kunda, the Yoni of the Uni-verse. From the same root came county, country, kin and kind.’
Wow! How amazing is that? I created ‘The Kind Project’ to help keep the female cunt intact, and it turned out the words ‘kind’ and ‘cunt’ have the same root! Don’t you just love that kind of synchronicity?
There’s more – ‘also cunning, kenning, and ken: knowledge…’ and ‘‘Kin’ meant not only matrilineal blood relations, but also a cleft or crevice, the Goddess’s Genital opening.’
The word ‘kind’ means where we come from and what is natural to us and relates to our natural knowing, our innate intelligence. Being kind is us at our most natural, us at our most intelligent.
It’s commonly understood that we should be kind to others, but the concept of being kind to ourselves is still not considered that important in our society. I would like to slightly adjust one of the most popular maxims of the Drag-queen, Rupaul here – ‘If you can’t be kind to yourself, how the hell you gonna be kind to anybody else?’ Our truest, deepest kindness needs to start with ourselves. And this is often the hardest bit.
The American Buddhist nun, Pema Chödrön, talks about making the decision again and again to be friends with this very moment that you’re in right now, no matter how tough it might be. I love that.
What might it look like for you to be the friend that you need right now? I think that’s a good question. The answer would come in all shapes and sizes, depending on where you’re at. Sometimes we might need to set some boundaries for ourselves, some gentle firmness. Sometimes, when we feel like a right fuck-up, we might need that friend that reminds us messing up is just part of life’s rich pattern and it’s no big deal. And other times we might need a tiny Moomin character to give us a shove and remind us to not take it all so seriously.
For me, practicing self-kindness will often just mean reframing the tone of voice I use with myself in my head. It seems that for many of us, being internally harsh comes so easily and readily, and we’ve been practicing it for so long that a lot of the time we don’t even notice we’re doing it. I’ve been listening out for any internal harshness for a while now, so I’m pretty sensitive to it. Whenever I realise that I’m giving myself a hard time on the quiet, I stop what I’m doing and take a moment. I listen to the harsh words – ‘Oh my God! What is this bollocks I’m writing? Nobody’s gonna be interested in this. I’m making a fool of myself.’ Then I listen to the feeling behind the words. It’s usually a mixture of fear and shame. So then it’s time to befriend my frightened, shamed self. I take a few deep breaths. I remind myself it’s okay if I write bollocks and if nobody’s interested, AND it’s especially okay if I make a fool of myself. I remind myself that I don’t really care. The little girl that tried so hard to be good might get herself all het up and she might need some soothing, but my big present-day, fifty-five year old self don’t give a rat’s arse what anybody thinks anymore. So let’s do it anyway, I say. See what happens…
“Hello fear/panic/anxiety – whatever you want to call yourself. Look at me! I’m writing my first blog!”(wink)
I want to leap in with gusto and maybe even a smattering of abandon! Why not? Who cares? No one but me and my neurosis give a flying fuck, and I’m getting too damn long in the tooth to be taking that too seriously. I want to channel my inner Little My. I’m a big fan of the Moomin characters, (except the Snorkmaiden. Sorry) but Little My is a firm favourite. Even though she is very small indeed, nobody would dream of messing with her.
I think about my child self, how fearful she was and how hard she tried to be a 'good girl'. I always tried my best to do what i thought was the ‘right thing’. The ‘good girl’ theme went up in flames during my adolescence I’m glad to say, but the fearfulness that had inspired it didn’t go away. Instead it mutated into new formations. But that’s for another day. Suffice to say Little My could have taught me a thing or two. I imagine she would have looked up at me with her mean little eyes and said “Loosen up! Stop taking yourself so seriously! You’re not having enough fun!” If only she had been there to give me a shove.
Well, it’s never too late!
So here I am, starting a blog that will explore ‘How to be Kind and Creative in a Crazy World’, because I believe that these are the two most important things that a human being can be. At least that is my truth. In my experience, everything necessary for a meaningful life follows on from the commitment to these two principals. I don’t want the ‘How to’ in the title to give the impression that I think I have this one down and will be writing a prescriptive list. That definitely ain’t the case. But ‘Grappling with How to be Kind and Creative in a Crazy World’ is just too bloody long a title. So please understand, it’s ‘grappling with’ that I’m doing here. I hope you will grapple with me!
And to be clear, when I say ‘kind’ I’m not talking about being ‘nice’. It’s not about saying what you think others want to hear and not upsetting people. It’s much bigger than that. True kindness requires for us to be open to vulnerability and pain – your own and that of others. It means taking a stand for what you know is right. And this requires a generous and open heart, as well as honesty, compassion and courage.
Five years ago, when I turned fifty, I created The Kind Project. I made fifty dolls to symbolise acceptance of the female body, and I put them up for sale for a charity that is fighting to bring an end to female genital mutilation. (If you want to know more, look under Art – ‘The Kind Project’ page for full details and to support the project.) I called it ‘The Kind Project’ because I wanted to inspire kindness for the female body, which undergoes such extreme level of objectification, criticism and assault. And I want anyone who buys a doll to hang her on their wall as a regular reminder to practice acceptance and kindness for their own body.
Six months after I started the project I happened to come across something amazing in the wonderful book The Woman's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets by Barbara G. Walker. Under the origin of the word ‘Cunt’ it says – ‘Derivative of the Oriental Great Goddess as Cunti, or Kunda, the Yoni of the Uni-verse. From the same root came county, country, kin and kind.’
Wow! How amazing is that? I created ‘The Kind Project’ to help keep the female cunt intact, and it turned out the words ‘kind’ and ‘cunt’ have the same root! Don’t you just love that kind of synchronicity?
There’s more – ‘also cunning, kenning, and ken: knowledge…’ and ‘‘Kin’ meant not only matrilineal blood relations, but also a cleft or crevice, the Goddess’s Genital opening.’
The word ‘kind’ means where we come from and what is natural to us and relates to our natural knowing, our innate intelligence. Being kind is us at our most natural, us at our most intelligent.
It’s commonly understood that we should be kind to others, but the concept of being kind to ourselves is still not considered that important in our society. I would like to slightly adjust one of the most popular maxims of the Drag-queen, Rupaul here – ‘If you can’t be kind to yourself, how the hell you gonna be kind to anybody else?’ Our truest, deepest kindness needs to start with ourselves. And this is often the hardest bit.
The American Buddhist nun, Pema Chödrön, talks about making the decision again and again to be friends with this very moment that you’re in right now, no matter how tough it might be. I love that.
What might it look like for you to be the friend that you need right now? I think that’s a good question. The answer would come in all shapes and sizes, depending on where you’re at. Sometimes we might need to set some boundaries for ourselves, some gentle firmness. Sometimes, when we feel like a right fuck-up, we might need that friend that reminds us messing up is just part of life’s rich pattern and it’s no big deal. And other times we might need a tiny Moomin character to give us a shove and remind us to not take it all so seriously.
For me, practicing self-kindness will often just mean reframing the tone of voice I use with myself in my head. It seems that for many of us, being internally harsh comes so easily and readily, and we’ve been practicing it for so long that a lot of the time we don’t even notice we’re doing it. I’ve been listening out for any internal harshness for a while now, so I’m pretty sensitive to it. Whenever I realise that I’m giving myself a hard time on the quiet, I stop what I’m doing and take a moment. I listen to the harsh words – ‘Oh my God! What is this bollocks I’m writing? Nobody’s gonna be interested in this. I’m making a fool of myself.’ Then I listen to the feeling behind the words. It’s usually a mixture of fear and shame. So then it’s time to befriend my frightened, shamed self. I take a few deep breaths. I remind myself it’s okay if I write bollocks and if nobody’s interested, AND it’s especially okay if I make a fool of myself. I remind myself that I don’t really care. The little girl that tried so hard to be good might get herself all het up and she might need some soothing, but my big present-day, fifty-five year old self don’t give a rat’s arse what anybody thinks anymore. So let’s do it anyway, I say. See what happens…