Good morning from gorgeous Lake Tahoe.
In a few minutes my kids, Sam and Coco, are going to wake up and then I’m going to make breakfast for them and then they’re going skiing. They’re 28 and 19 and they are absolutely slaying their life here in this beautiful community, Incline Village. Yesterday I met one of Sam’s friends and the first thing he said to me was, “You have great kids.”
Think about that for a second: a young adult male told me I’ve raised good humans.
That’s not so much reflective of me as it is a beautiful testament to who and what my son and daughter are in this small community.
I’ve watched my daughter with the little boy she is nannying these past few days in absolute awe of her parenting skills. Nineteen years old and she is helping raise another human, getting to work on time, being responsible and respectful and fun.
Sam and Coco never stop laughing. My kids, born ten years apart, are the best of friends. They work hard, they eat well, they have incredible friends.
It’s my privilege to be here to scramble their eggs, toast their toast and fry up the bacon, because, of course, they’re perfectly capable of doing it themselves. But being the breakfast cook reminds me of when they were little and still around the house, and it allows me, if only for a few minutes, to be Mom again.
I don’t have a lot of time to well-express what popped into my head this morning (that’s how I write: I listen and then record), but I wanted to get this out before it drifts away.
There is so much talk about kindness. Kindness, kindness, be kind, be kinder, she was so kind, etc. I have a friend who, quite magnanimously, sends out a daily thought-provoking quote. I absolutely love this. This morning’s was about kindness.
I have always felt that kindness can easily become one of those things like whipped cream frosting: it looks so great, but there’s not much there when you dig your fork in. A lot of air, disappointing.
I feel like this is one of these things we see a lot of these days: admonitions to be this or be that. Be more of this thing, do this more often …
But you know, if you’re acting if you’re forcing, the energy isn’t there.
Authenticity is waiting in the wings for the moment when you step into yourself, because that’s when being kind or generous or patient comes without thought.
Here’s what I’m saying: the greatest thing you can be in life is yourself. Your true, honest and authentic self.
The sad thing is that a lot of people have no idea what that means, largely because they’ve spent a big chunk of their lives being what they thought they were supposed to be or what someone else wanted them to be.
It is the strangest thing about being human: so many of us have no idea who we are.
It should the landing pad for every curriculum ever taught: Who am I? The starting point before anything else is taught. Because it’s a lot of work to uncover that Truth later in life when you’re coated in a hundred layers of misguided ideas about your life, about you.
Centered in my being: aware of my purpose, delighted with my dreams and ideas, clear about my skills, I am naturally kind. Because I am content, because I enjoy life, because I do the work every day to try to become an evolved soul, I can’t not be nice or kind.
Not all the time, of course, but most of the time; I get tired and cranky, too. I was definitely an asshole at least three times last week.
Knowing myself and liking myself makes me curious about everything, especially other people. Forgiving myself and my missteps makes me empathic. I see myself as born of Love and, knowing that, I cannot exclude anyone from that umbrella. I don’t believe in an exclusive Creative Force that chooses who gets to stand in and who is outside of Love. It doesn’t work that way.
In trusting that everyone is born of Love, I can’t not be kind. I can’t not be loving, I can’t not be patient, curious, forgiving.
It all begins with your desire to uncover and then live the Truth of your life here on Earth. From there flows all the positive energy we will ever need to do or be anything we ever want to be.
It’s bacon time. xomo
I love you so deeply, Lake Tahoe.
Thank you for the story this morning. Hello Lake Tahoe.
Melissa,
At this time of overwhelming hatred on college campuses and of course on social media, your post is a breath of fresh air. For Jews in this country, it is starting to feel like Europe in 1939.