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Sometimes I find myself disappointing, and most of the time, I deal with that by not paying much attention to it. But in the spirit of Touch Practice (breathe, lean into the edge, accept all the parts of your experience) I decided to lean into that topic a bit for my blog this week.

Some of my disappointment with me is no big deal; let’s call this “minor disappointment.” The times when I go to the gym but my heart isn’t in it? Those workouts where I “do my time” but don’t really come away with much of a sense of accomplishment because I sat at various stations mostly daydreaming, rather than focusing on the work? Shaved a few reps off of each set and skipped the abs at the end because I was tired, bored, and, heck, nobody will ever know but me? Very minor disappointment. I hardly even notice it. I come away with a slight sense of dissatisfaction and wasted time. Letting myself down is the least of the disappointments.

Forgetting to pay a bill on time, accidentally double-booking myself for lunch with a friend or running late because I didn’t plan well? Not a big deal. The sense of disappointment isn’t big, and forgiveness is nearly instantaneous. Minor disappointment. Resolves by itself, almost immediately. No one is perfect.

Medium disappointment? I had to think about this a bit–but when I realize that I didn’t do my best listening to a troubled friend because I was mentally preparing for the big meeting with my boss tomorrow morning, running spreadsheets in my head–that’s medium disappointment. Or maybe I was in a group of people and I could have taken an action that was really skillful, but I did something clumsy and not particularly helpful instead.  Those are situations where I feel moderately disappointed in myself. I wish I could have done better. I typically come away from those and think a little bit, make a mental note of what I would do differently next time. Minor disappointment I forget about almost immediately; medium disappointment seems to come with a “note to self” that aims at a better outcome next time around.

I don’t know why I am the way I am around this, or if everyone is similar in these ways, but I see little ways in which I don’t live up to my own standards, which are no big deal, and more medium sized ways in which I don’t live up to my own standards, which are medium sized deals.

By no means do I expect myself to be perfect; I don’t even know what that would mean. But at the same time, I do have certain ideals around what it means to live as a responsible citizen, a good friend, a committed husband, a steward of the physical body which has been gifted to me, and many other things. I have some goals for all of these relationships, principles I try to live by, and when I don’t meet my own standards, I feel disappointed in me, usually in a minor or perhaps a medium way.

And then there’s the show stopper. The situation which, once I realize it, literally makes my heart thump in my throat as though someone is pointing a gun at me.

I think there’s only one situation that triggers super-sized disappointment. It is a case where I actually feel, for an instant, shame: the sense that not only have I done something undesirable: but that I am something undesirable. Shame is a real marker that something is amiss; it really gets our attention, if we’re paying attention, and it should.

So now I’m talking about major disappointment, serious disappointment. And it happens when I realize that I have been unkind to someone. Well, not just unkind–intentionally mean or nasty to someone. This is not a situation where I’ve said or done something accidentally that unintentionally hurt someone.  I’m talking about those times I realize I had an intention, a deliberate “edge” in what I said that was designed to inflict some pain. And whenever I catch myself in that particular act it produces a sense of disappointment in myself so great I can only describe it as crushing disappointment. I often carry that feeling for several days. I have a bad feeling in my belly. It hurts to breathe.

Wow. I never thought this was worthy of a serious investigation until now? That’s a rather remarkable reaction. It seems like this might be worth leaning into, exploring, unpacking. Talk about leaning into the stretch. I feel so badly when I realize that I have behaved in a way that is unkind, deliberately unkind, that on some level I feel like I could die. I wonder why that is.

I suppose, on the one hand, kindness is a very important value for me; maybe it is my highest value. I see all kinds of benefits to kindness and no downside. It can be difficult to do, and it’s impossible to do all of the time. I don’t think I could embrace kindness as a standard; I’d be disappointed all the time.  I’m more comfortable calling it a practice, because for me, anyway, one never gets it “right”–you just get closer and closer to getting it. The more you practice, the closer you get. But it’s never perfect. And that’s ok.

I don’t think I actually expect myself to be kind without fail. The part that disappoints me comes on closer examination of my experience, and here’s the part that hurts, that stops my breath: I am mean. I have the capacity for meanness.  Where does that come from, when I act mean–from outer space? From my neighbor? No, it comes from me, from within me. Obviously I’m carrying that; it’s a piece of me, and every once in a while, I can see it. It comes out.

And that–that–is the “ouch” moment. It breaks my heart that this is a part of me. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have mean, or petty, or stingy, or hateful, or any of those other pieces I have. I’d get rid of them, have them surgically removed. But I’ve definitely got those pieces. I have all the colors of the rainbow including mean.

So. Breathe. Relax into the stretch.

I find the Buddhist idea about this to be compelling, that idea being that we all have “seeds” of various things inside of us, and we need to choose which seeds we should water. The seeds you water grow and sprout, and the ones you don’t lie dormant, but they’re still in there, forever. We all have the seeds for kindness and for meanness, both; the seeds for generosity and for greed. There’s no positive attribute we can carry that doesn’t come with a corresponding counterpart, a shadow.

If I roll with that and step back through that particular day, how did I water the seeds that led to my unkind response to my friend? I began the day by skipping my workout so I could get to work sooner; I also skipped breakfast because I was working on things mentally and didn’t want to stop. I spent my entire commute to work problem solving, thinking and doing calendar maintenance. I had a couple of meetings in my half-day at work where I took care of things that other people needed. I came home from work in early afternoon to do some Touch Practice, and then had planned to get back to the gym for myself later that afternoon, but got a call from a friend who said, “hey, I’m depressed, and I wonder if you have any time to just hold me and talk?” Without thinking, I said, “sure.” It is late afternoon, and I still haven’t had any meals in me at this point in the day, and I haven’t gotten to anything on the list of things that I need to do “just for me.” I eventually get dinner, but no workout.

And then, later that night, by e-mail no less: bam! I take a mean swipe at a friend.

I watered the seeds of unkindness by being unkind to me, to myself, all day long. I didn’t feed me; I didn’t take care of my body; I didn’t meditate, as is my usual practice; I didn’t put myself high enough on the priority list to make sure that I got to the things I needed from me. I threw myself into doing for others with the intention of loving and caring for them, but we can never do for others what we cannot or will not do for ourselves. There’s no way I can love and care for others if I don’t nourish myself; eventually, if I’m unkind, even to me, that seed is going to get watered, and it is going to bear fruit. I’d been mean to myself all day long, and mean is what came out in the end.

Which leads me to a paradoxical and baffling lesson that I keep learning over and over again: the way to becoming the most caring, loving, giving person I can be requires that I always put myself first, before I try to give a single thing to anyone else. My needs have to be met, first, before I go out into the day. Perhaps the reason that heart-thumping reaction is so severe is not because I realize how much I’ve let the other person down. It comes because on some level I realize I betrayed myself, and I’m witnessing the fruits of my own betrayal.

Attention fellow travelers: please put your own oxygen mask on first before attempting to assist the other passengers. Take care of your own boundaries, your own breathing, your own grounding, your own intentions, before you even wonder how your partner is doing, and the practice practically runs itself.

Happy travels. Many blessings.

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