Why not remember your kindness?

I recently had an interaction with someone I worked with on a project a couple of years ago - a project that cost me valuable time, but ultimately, never took off. It was evident in the exchange, an email thread tying up the final loose end, the person was clipped in their responses. It's one of those things that's hard to not feel bristled by - your frontal cortex can't resist but stew in the mental mirk. Especially, in this case, given the amount of time that's passed and that the project's end was an amicable agreement by both, equally exhausted, parties.

Sometimes you've got to quit while you're ahead, and sometimes you've got to ignore all the warning signs - because isn't that fun!? - and pull the plug a little further down the line. When you feel that passionate upstream paddle turning into displeasure, you know it's time. Sometimes, letting go and bobbing gently down towards the pool of broken dreams is the best decision. Sometimes you can even arrive as a team, closing with a handshake or a hug, grateful for the adventure called experience.

Failure happens over and over on the quest for a creative life - you have to fail and fall, fail and fall, and failing and falling with others is part of the juicy, growth opportunity. It's like a slice of how-do-you-like-me-now from the universe, except that you have to share it. You can dress it up as anything you like, but it's nothing more than good old humble pie. We have to invite these things to spit us out the other side somewhat better - rather than bitter - for it.

Once I got my past reptilian urge to react, I realised I didn't actually have an issue with this person myself, I simply had a response to their perceived issue with me. This, I came to realise, is not a concern I feel called to fix. It's a great place to arrive to; a deep, knowing place that lets me turn mirco-agro moments into macro-a-ha moments. A place that invites me to dig deeper and find the good-hearted gall to lay on the kindness like a thick schmear of mud from the bottom of that damn dream pool - complete with good-natured 'keep wells!'.

Because why not.
When you remember who you are, you can remember your kindness.

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