It’s not me; it’s you. . .

A woman was cruel, demeaning and condescending to me.  I let her comments, insinuations, and nastiness roll off.  What she said didn't matter.  It upset a colleague of mine, but there was no reason for the woman to behave this way.  I was doing what I needed to be doing.  "It has nothing to do with me," I said.  "It's all about her."  

I was in my skin, and I looked around me and was comfortable in it.  I was in the moment, and what that woman said simply didn't matter.  I felt sorry for her.  I really did!  I'm not hiding my vexation behind a screen of holiness.  She was pitiable, because she only knew how to alleviate her inner turmoil by sharing it with others.  She was in pain.  An old friend said it best, "Hurt people hurt people, but blessed people bless people."

It took a class on zen meditation to help me understand that the world doesn't revolve around me.  Each of us feels like the sun with planets orbiting around it, and in a way, each of us is.  Truly, we each can only truly understand ourselves.  Our own feelings and agendas, our own motivations and vulnerabilities.

That being said, that also means that we see each other through me-colored glasses.  "I understand," we say.  "I sympathize," or "I don't believe you."  Every connection we make with one another is based on our own observations and understandings of ourselves.  And oftentimes. . . we are wrong.

Me-colored glasses are worn in different shades of Me.  Sometimes we are so busy thinking of ourselves, we don't see the person we are looking at.  We see the person we expect, or we want, or we fear.  But who is that other person really and truly?  How do we make our glasses less opaque with me-ness?

Our society today is burdened with very dark me-glasses.  Individuals cannot see past their own sensitivities and fears, and see other people through those close to opaque lenses.  My kids cannot say, "Look at that black car!" at school these days without other kids shouting, "Racist!"  because they are white.  Clearly, people are not seeing my gentle kids for who they are.

When I approach people who are nasty to me, the first thing I do is to assume that whatever they are nasty about is not my fault.  Then, I am unfailingly kind.  

Anybody can get up on the wrong side of the bed and be a grump.  Other people have been through so much in their lives that they expect nastiness from everyone they meet, so they dole it out first.  There are many reasons people can be ugly.  

The greatest lesson I've learned is this:  Kindness is never wasted. . . even if it is something that ends up being for yourself, because the other person is in too much pain to understand.  Someday, the seed you planted might spring up in that person and blossom into a rare orchid.  That's what you pray for.