In Just-Spring – Let Small Kindnesses Lead The Way

On the first day of Spring, I was walking through Washington Square Park, lost in my thoughts — worrying about the cuts to public education, the current administration’s roll-back on America’s hard-won diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI), and the latest affront to human dignity. The everyday horror show that plagues so many of us these days.

I’ll admit it: I felt overwhelmed. Then I noticed a pair of undergrads sitting together on a park bench and overheard one say to her friend: “You are so loved.”

There was such joy and delight there. I smiled at them; they smiled at me. A little further on, another pair were stretched out on a patch of grass, basking in the sun. No devices in sight. Just two guys laughing loud. And one said, “All you have to do is leap.”

My mental storm clouds lifted. Just for a second, but it was enough. I said to myself, hey – maybe life isn’t so bad after all. In the midst of so much turmoil, amazing humans are still loving, supporting, and encouraging each other.

I thought of the tiny acts of kindness I’ve witnessed lately. A neighbor was setting a crystal vase in the trash area. “Are you giving that away?” A woman asked. Notice that she didn’t say throwing that away, but giving as an act of kindness. She scooped up the vase and happily took it home. That very morning my barista drew a smiling sun on my coffee cup before filling it – to the brim! – with my oat milk cappuccino. None of this fixes the big, systemic stuff, but it reminds me that not all is lost. That sort of connection is a form of gentle protest.

Back in high school, my favorite poet was e.e. cummings. His poem [in Just-] goes…

[in Just-] Poem by e.e. cummings – image via Poetry Foundation

Cummings’ words “the world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful” celebrate what a gorgeous mess life is, full of surprises and joy you can only find by splashing about in the middle of it. Cummings possessed the great ability to hold onto innocence without surrendering intelligence. He knew how brutal life could be but chose, again and again, to focus on delight. On the power of play. On deriving delight from what’s right in front of you.

It’s easy to dismiss Ram Dass and his “Be Here Now” mantra as hippy-dippy bunk. But when you feel your world’s on fire – when the past is a morass of mistakes and the future seems too awful to contemplate – that’s the work. Be. Here. Now. In your body, in your breath, in this exact moment, not scrolling, not escaping, just watching the light shift on a stoop, feeling your feet on the sidewalk, letting the air touch your face. That’s where sanity starts to rebuild itself.

It’s easy to forget how powerful we are. Not in the performative, achievement-driven way, but in the way we listen, the way we show up for each other, the way we remind others that they matter. The strength is in staying soft and being willing to meet someone’s eyes when they’re falling apart. Or when you are.

The world’s an absolute wreck right now. We all realize that. What we don’t realize often enough is that it’s also filled with people who bring soup to neighbors without being asked. Who make you laugh just when you thought you forgot how. Who walk through the park and smile at strangers and actually make a difference.

You don’t have to fix everything. You don’t have to be a hero. Just pay attention. Keep your heart open, even a little. Let the light in. Let your breath out. It’s easy…all you have to do is leap.

You are loved.