Gentleness

For the last few days gentleness has been very much on my mind.  And then the internet did that thing it sometimes does, where I sense a powerful twining together of individual experiences and perspectives into something far greater than any one of us.  First, on Sunday, Lisa wrote about the power of steadfast kindness and gentleness.  Then, Monday morning, Susan Piver tweeted “I believe in supreme gentleness, agenda-less curiosity, outrageous self-expression, and kindness.”

Maybe the turning of the year has hit me particularly hard this year.  The coldness, the blizzard, the illness of my father-in-law, the ferociously-fast growing-up of my children.  I don’t know, but I’m finding myself in particular need of gentleness.  My thin skin is even more attenuated than usual, stretched to where it might split open at any moment.  My already-porous self feels even more exposed than usual.

I learned that it is the weak who are cruel, and that gentleness is to be expected only from the strong. – Leo Rosten

I am beginning to understand that gentleness is the epitome of strength.  Those who have accepted themselves fully enough to be able to look at, see, and embrace others for who they are – rather than falling prey to their own reactions, assumptions, and judgments, which come from insecurity – are those who are truly gentle.  I know I can work on this myself: I’m not always gentle, and on reflection I know why.  I think improvement here starts with gentleness towards myself and with releasing others from the prison of what I can be so sure that they should be/think/feel.

In this cold and dark season, this interval before we start seeing more light, before the ice melts, before the colds stop coming so persistently, I ache for gentleness.  I don’t know how much more bruising my heart can take.  I want it to be held gently now.

There is gentleness all around me, I know that.  Not always from those from whom I want it, and not always in the guise I expect.  But when I open my eyes, I see what it in front of me.  Gentleness.  The kind where you put your hand softly over your brother’s healing stitches, read Harry Potter slowly so that he can follow, and answer patiently his myriad questions.

14 thoughts on “Gentleness”

  1. Oh thank you, thank you,thank you, Lindsey.

    I am so bruised, so rumpled, and this is just the reminder I needed. The photo is pure compassion, pure gentleness and good.

    And you are right, it starts with ourselves.

    And that we who are strong are also the gentle is something new to ponder.

    Love….

  2. As always, I want to thank you for all of these beautiful posts.

    I, too, have been thinking of gentleness, in part because one of my dearest friends has stage 4 incurable cancer and her advice to me, often, is simple: be gentle with yourself. I have taken her words to heart and realize how rarely any of us are gentle with ourselves. I am trying.

    Like most of your shared writings, this one hit home. I am glad I have this place to come to – your blog.

  3. Lindsey, once again we are totally in synch. During yoga yesterday, the clear intention came to me — I must be strong, so that I can be gentle. It worked physically, and I can see how I am translating it emotionally to this funny project that is now my whole life — strongly and gently shepherding three people through this scary, ungentle world. As always, you put the most beautiful words to the most complicated feelings.

  4. Part of my New Year campaign to do less is born out of a desire to be more gentle with myself. I am SO hard on myself, particularly when I don’t get “enough” done. Gentleness is the answer and the daily practice.

  5. What a beautiful picture and powerful message.

    At a time when I’m filled to the brim with anger, your post jolted me out of myself and made me feel very small. But it’s a good thing. Today I’m going to seek some gentle in my corners.

  6. Your posts are always so beautiful and thoughtful, but this one on this day with this picture? Exactly what I needed. Thank you again, Lindsey.

  7. “I think improvement here starts with gentleness towards myself and with releasing others from the prison of what I can be so sure that they should be/think/feel.”

    Yes, yes, yes. Thank you for putting into a words an idea I know in my heart-gut to be true.

    xo

  8. Being gentle. I’ve never thought about it in the context of myself. My husband is exquisitely gentle in the way he carries himself and I find myself too restless sometimes to stand still enough to exercise enough calm to inhabit a gentle spirit.

  10. Your words make my heart ache–in supreme recognition of the truth of your lyric words and phrases, gently twining with the dark, not-so-gentle caverns of my soul. xxoo

  11. I adore you, I hope you know that. I adore that there is another soul in this place who thinks and feels so much like I do. It makes me feel less alone, it inspires me. Recently Karen Miller told me that the greatest gift is to learn to forgive oneself. A new concept to me, but a profound one. Kindness is forgiveness, and learning to walk forward in the glory of a life well lived. You my friend are living life well. Trust me, I see it and feel it.
    xo

  12. I long for gentleness in my life. I have a husband who is 100% “booyah” male. (I must have found that attractive in my youth!) I’m pretty rough around the edges myself, so my boys were doomed to start. They do all have gentle sides to them, much of which is directed towards me, and I thank them for that.

    It’s interesting you brought up your need for it lately. I have been feeling the same and was thinking the other day that I so needed my hubby to tone down banter. I am a pretty strong person and can take ribbing with the best of them, but recently, not so much.

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