I was poking through a local store with my niece and her boyfriend a couple weekends ago while they were visiting between Christmas and New Year’s. They got into a lively debate over the relative merits of the Squishmallow collection on the shelves nearby. “They’re not real Squishmallows, but they’re still pretty cool,” she explained to me, as I nodded, pretending to understand. You’ve probably seen these oversized, colorful stuffed toys in stores around town. They range in size from tiny enough to fit in your pocket to so big you’d need to strap it in the passenger seat to get it home. Some of them look like animals and some of them look like food. I don’t understand why anyone would want a giant stuffed blueberry pancake with a face on it, but I’m also sure I’m not the target market. I haven’t done a formal count, but I suspect my niece has bagged the legal limit of Squishmallows and should probably let others have a chance to acquire the “Chocolate Dipped Pomegranate” or “Nestor the Chicken Nugget”. (I am not making those names up.)
Luckily, the store also had used books, which I might be over my legal limit on as well. I picked through the shelves, reading the back covers of the titles that caught my eye, trying to decide if anything here was more interesting than the stack of books I have waiting for me on my nightstand and the several unread ones gathering virtual dust on my Kindle bookshelf.
One tiny book jumped into my hand. “Kindfulness” the cover said. It was just six dollars and small enough to fit into my purse. It wouldn’t take up much space on my stack of books at home. I liked the sound of the word, even if I wasn’t sure I’d be any good at mediation and relaxing, two of the things the back cover claimed it would help me do, if I bought and read it.
The title made me think of a friend of mine who picks a word at the start of each new year as a theme for what she wants to focus on during the months ahead. Last year she chose “resilience” which turned out to be more of a prediction of what she would need to get through the year. I hope that this year she chooses an easier word.
I bought the tiny book and promptly misplaced it somewhere in the house that weekend. I’m sure it will turn up and I’ll be delighted to find it again. And while I haven’t read the author’s definition, kindfulness is the word I’d like to live by in the months ahead. I’m trying to decide what it means to me – a combination of mindfulness and kind – and how I’d work it into everyday life.
I think kindfulness happens randomly, maybe while standing in the self-checkout line at the grocery store when everyone is usually in their own world, looking at their phones. You turn around and notice the person with the cart behind you has one of those oversized Squishmallows taking up most of the space, and you decide to ask her about it while you are waiting. It’s just a few sentences back and forth, nothing deep, and then it’s your turn at the self-checkout. You bump into her again as you both roll your carts through the exit doors towards the parking lot and suddenly you find yourself shouting out, “have a good night! I know she’ll love that Squishmallow!” to a perfect stranger and feeling joy in your heart.
I’m not saying you should be the person who talks the ears off the cashier at the Dollar Tree while ignoring the glares of the folks in the checkout line behind you. But it’s so easy now to stay in our technology-induced bubbles and go about our day without really talking to anyone. It doesn’t take much to smile and make eye contact and maybe say a few words as we pass each other in the parking lot or the grocery store aisle. When I remember to do it, I’m always surprised how often people smile back or say a few kind words in return. You end up walking back to your car feeling happier and that feeling ripples outward. I think we could all use a little extra kindfulness these days.