As I recently thumbed through the notebooks of classes I have taught over the course of the last year and a half, I find a pretty common theme. Love, kindness, compassion. These characteristics are at the heart of our finding a sense of freedom, of lightness of step as we walk through this sometimes cruel world.
There is no time greater and maybe more important to exercise kindness and compassion than through the season of holidays and transition that takes us headlong into another new year. Whether it’s Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, or any other celebration that ends the year with gift giving and family gatherings, I imagine that the scenes are awfully familiar; fear and anxiety percolating in the room as we unintentionally remind one another of what we have or have not achieved this year or ever; agitation or anger held onto like a hot stone and carried for years at some hurt we were dished out like auntie’s famous green salad; the tremendous weight of a loss of a loved one who’s presence is sorely missed; the pressure to be “merry and bright” when we feel anything but.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year, unless it isn’t. That is how I started my Friday morning Bhakti Flow and Gentle classes last week, because for many this is the most joyous time, but for many it is a time of struggle, of wrestling with old demons, and staring into the eyes of ancient pain that look like the ones belonging to your family members.
We see the strugglers, the stranglers of joy, and we call them names like Scrooge and the Grinch. We roll our eyes or outright scoff at them in line as they create scenes of chaos straight out of those stories. We say things like how can they be so angry, with all these sparkling lights, with all the gifts, with all this merriment?? But no amount of silver glitter wrapping paper, sprinkled sugar cookies, or carols touting the beauty of the season can do anything but be a reminder of the invisible, still festering wounds.
What we learn from both Scrooge and The Grinch is that pain in their past, love that either was not shown or received, joy that was robbed at their own hands or those of others is at the root of their suffering, their lack of holiday cheer as it were. And that love given, even in the face of their lacking ability to return it, becomes the antidote.
In her book A Return to Love Marianne Williamson spends exactly 300 pages making the case for love, for kindness, for compassion, in all areas of our lives and relationships. There are a few things she says in an early chapter that I shared last Friday and I will share with you now that reminded and encouraged me to see our Grinches with fresh eyes:
“Love does not conquer all things, but it does set all things right.”
Love taken seriously is a radical outlook, a major departure from the psychological orientation that rules the world. It is threatening not because it is a small idea, but because it is so huge(19).
We have been brought up in a world that does not put love first, and where love is absent, fear sets in. Fear is to love as darkness is to light. It’s a terrible absence of what we need in order to survive. It’s a place where we go where all hell breaks loose (22).
If you recall in the Jim Carey version of the Grinch story, there is a scene where he’s been given the title of Holiday Cheermeister, a very distinct honor in Whoville. He is understandably reluctant, and just as he is softening, the old familiar taunts begin from the mouth of a childhood bully. We have already experienced a flashback of the moment that the Grinch became so “Grinchy” and so it is no surprise that in the moment, where love is so clearly absent, all hell breaks loose and he destroys everything.
As we all know, he continues his rampage long into the night as he steals all that he can which represents the frivolity of the holiday, all the shine, lights, gifts, and decadent foods. But it is in the home of Cindy Lou that he is confronted with pure love and his heart begins to change. She asks what Christmas is all about, the Grinch posing as Santa answers with the shallowest of answers, presents, and her disappointment takes over. She, like the Grinch, has also struggled to find meaning in the upkeep of appearances and the spreading of glitter and lighting of lights, and yet, as she turns away with the weight of her own sadness, she asks that the Grinch not be forgotten, making it clear that he is worth fuss, even if that is all this day is about.
Cindy Lou was a radical for love that night, her compassion for a fellow Who stronger and bigger than anything else. And as Whoville would wake to find their Christmas “ruined” it would be that little bitty Who bearing the reminder of what was really important all along. Sharing time, sharing presence, sharing love with one another despite the circumstances was what they would focus on.
Radical love, kindness, and compassion are what saved the Grinch from a life of misery and loneliness. Radical love, kindness, and compassion are what will save us all.
As you encounter the Grinches and the Scrooge’s of the world, may you remember that the story can be changed with love, kindness, and compassion. May you find yourself acting radically, like Cindy Lou, whose entire town thought she was crazy, but whose selfless love saved the day.
And if you cannot be loving to everyone, at least be kind, if you cannot be kind, at least be compassionate, and if you struggle to find compassion, may you take a moment to ask yourself who the real Grinch is and why, beginning at least with yourself.
Finding Om in the OMG 