There’s a difference between being nice and being kind (I’ll get to the fear part later).
Let’s say you have a pair of really nice looking shoes. You look wonderful in them, but your feet feel awful. Those shoes are nice, not kind.
Now let’s say you traded in your nice looking shoes for a pair of orthopedics. The orthopedics are ghastly, but they are kind to your feet.
Outside appearances can be nice but that’s all they are – insubstantial substitutes for actual caring.
Common sense, right? Well, what I’m getting at is, why be “nice” in the first place? I mean, if you don’t really mean it? If it does nothing but make yourself look good.
I snapped out of it today. I came to that point of not giving a damn and all my niceties shit the bed. I snapped out of the illusion of being nice.
First I woke up to my brother and his girlfriend fighting. She stormed out and said she’ll never be back (she’s back). Then the detective called wanting to know if he can stop by the business today to go over loose ends, then one of my member clients complained that he didn’t know he was being charged every month and demanded his $350 dollars back.
And I had four clients and had to wash sheets.
One client was a borderline pervy old man from my old business. I loathe touching people like that. He wanted a hug when he first walked in.
Client – “Have you ever gone to New York to massage the marathon runners?”
Me – “No, I never did that. I never had an interest in it.”
Client – “Well, I’m sure you must have massaged many athletes with good muscle tone here.”
What the hell are you getting at?
Me – “Uh, er, yeah sure.”
I can’t massage anymore. I have NO niceties left in me. But while I was massaging him I wondered, why the hell should I be nice anyway?
And thus brings me to the topic of this post:
Because I’m scared not to.
Just like choosing those pair of killer heals over ugly Betty’s orthopedic pumps, you’re scared of what people might think.
Yesterdays post really left an impression on me. And today I felt it more than I did while I was writing it.
I am now entering the “truth” zone.
So are you kind, or are you scared (AKA nice)?
You’re nice because you’re scared people won’t like you, or that they’ll stop talking to you, or never come back to your business, etc etc…
Don’t forget that nice people actually don’t care about you. So while you’re trying your damnedest to put your best foot forward for a nice person, all the while they’re just looking to see what they can get out of it. They’re essentially using you.
I am a nice person. I’m looking to see what I can get.
I’m a master manipulator. I should be call Mel-ipulator. That’s the only reason why I know all this. I just don’t give a shit and I’m always looking out for number one.
We all have to hit bottom before getting to see who we are, but there are many bottoms to hit in various ways.
In this case, I’m hitting a nice bottom. I’m slapping that ass.
But now that I know this about myself, I can start working on being kind. To get rid of all the bullshit and to start actually caring.
I’ll never care about the marathon runner guy, he gives me the creeps (as most runners do), but I don’t have to sacrifice my authenticity for him either. Why? Because I’m not scared of him. I’m not scared because there’s nothing he can do to harm me.
He’s always looking for a deal anyway. He’s “nicer” than I am if you know what I mean.
Nice = Looking to see what you can get
Kindness = Looking to see what you can give
When kindness is involved, there’s a rub. A sort of friction. When two people don’t compromise who they are for the sake of one another, the heart sparks.
What if this is true love? The kind of unconditional love that I’m waiting for? Void of neediness, ego, validation….All the garbage that causes selfish pain of loss and not understanding. The pain of not getting what you want.
Nice = Pain
When two people are being nice to each other, where’s the pull? You know? What’s the point? There’s no heart or truth in any of it.
As for kind people, well, they’re the true beauty’s. Those are the people who don’t want or expect a damn thing. They are self-sufficient and whole.
I wish I was kind. I wish I can escape my niceness. I’m like a damn salesperson, but I can’t even do that properly.
Kindness isn’t about condescension either. It’s knowing full well that we’re all on an even playing field. It’s disrespectful not to acknowledge that, but it’s equally ignorant to assume a person know’s what they’re doing.
We don’t know shit, only our needs and desires. We only know what we want others to be, and not who they really are. Our fulfillment and unfulfillment relies on the mercy of others. That’s why we’re nice. We’re at their mercy without even knowing or acknowledging it.
I got a slight glimpse of kindness today. It was found in one of those transcendent moments of clarity that stays for 2-seconds before fleeting away. In order to obtain it, I first have to be kind to myself. That’s the only way to it.
Fear has taken me prisoner and it’s kindness alone that wields the sword to slay it. Or a Ginkgo knife would work. They’re pretty sharp.
People who’ve said “I’m done being nice”, or, “I’m done with these games,” they’re the one’s who know what I’m talking about. It’s an act of clarity, a reaction to suffering. You deserve to be kind to yourself in lieu of being nice to others (which is fake anyway).
You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. That is, once you embark on your heroes journey.