What do you do with the mad?

Last Friday night I went to see the new Mr. Rogers movie and spoiler alert:

Bring tissues.

If it seems like there has been an increase of media and merchandise around Mr. Rogers in the past two years, it’s because there has. 2018 marked the 50th anniversary of the first Mr. Rogers show which is when he started showing up everywhere in everything.

I of course remember him with fondness from my childhood, as without cable t.v. or DVR’s we looked forward to and tuned in to particular shows each day or each week.

But it is his re-emergence into my adulthood these past few years that has me looking so hard at my life – my habits – my emotions – my interactions with people. And kindness. As I learn more and more about Fred Rogers and his life, I am blown away and confounded by the kindness that he seemed to live.

He lived kindness.

I adopted the phrase “be kind” in 2016 as I searched for a tag line for my personal website. I sign all of these emails with that phrase. I make a conscience effort to be kind in many ways throughout the day. But I fail more times than I succeed.

And I cannot say that I live kindness.

Because life. Because emotions. Because interactions with other humans. Because complicated relationships. Because misunderstood communication. Because a lack of communications. Because a one hour commute to and from work . Because of the negative stories I tell myself. Because self-esteem.

That. That is the struggle. Or at least it’s my struggle.

There is a scene from the movie where the main character (a writer for Esquire magazine), turns to Mr. Rogers’ wife and basically asks if he is always like this. If he is always so gentle and deliberate and compassionate.

And she says that he does get angry. He does get upset. But that he works at it. At himself. He works on himself. So, she says, he prays and he plays the piano and he swims laps.

He worked at it. He worked at living kindly.

You may remember that one of his more famous songs was “What do you do with the mad that you feel, when you feel so mad you could bite?”

The answer is, you feel it. You let yourself feel it. When is the last time that you truly let yourself feel an emotion without policing yourself? Without stifling your tears at a movie? Or apologizing to someone for venting? Or putting a lid on whatever you’re feeling because you don’t want to take up space in someone else’s life or someone else’s day?

For years, I wore as a badge of honor the description of being even-keeled, especially as an athlete. Never too up, never too down. That managing of my emotions was what I’d learned, and it served me well as an athlete.

But I’ve spent the better part of the last 20 years trying to lean in to feelings and understand them and process them and work through them. Those of you that have read my writing for any length of time know that – and you know that I work through and process some of my thoughts and feelings here, with all of you who are kind enough to spend your time reading my words.

I believe I’m coming to understand that living kindness – really living kindness – means daily work. Meditation or prayer for the mind – exercise for the body – nourishment for the soul - connection to others - and more than anything else – a willingness to have compassion and understanding for those who are angry and defensive and short with their words. Who are thoughtless in their actions and interactions with others.

To try to ask why, what has happened to another person in their life that would make them so brittle and angry, instead of reacting to that anger with more anger.

I think Mr. Rogers is popular now, not just because of recent movies and documentaries and podcasts (Finding Fred). But because kindness, if you absorb the news, feels more like a bumper sticker than a practice.

I have, in the past four years of blogging, become more and more open with my writing. And this quote below from Mr. Rogers probably sums up best why I’ve chosen to do so.

“Every one of us longs to be in touch with honesty. ... I think we're really attracted to people who will share some of their real self with us.”

I think so too. I think that’s why coaching is such a privilege. It’s why writing is such a privilege.

If only we can learn to share a little more of our real selves with each other – maybe that’s the way to living kindness.

Thank you for the privilege of your time.