Day 209: Kindness to Others as Kindness to Self

Talked with my sister on the phone today, and we got to talking about my dad. Specifically, how we haven’t really been staying in touch with him during quarantine.

When my sister suggested that we should make more of an effort to stay in touch with him, I felt resistance: Why should I have to make the effort? Why doesn’t he?

My sister said that he maybe felt too prideful to reach out because it might make him feel like he’s being needy. I wasn’t sure about that explanation, but either way, I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of spending my time and energy to strengthen our relationship.

For those not familiar, I didn’t grow up with my dad — I was raised by my grandparents in California while he and my stepmom lived in Korea. It’s only in the past few years that we’ve been in somewhat regular contact.

I’ve made a lot of progress in working through my resentment toward my dad, but it’s clear from the hardness of my heart during that phone call that there’s still a lot to work though. During the call, my attitude was basically thus: It was his decision to stay in Korea and not be physically present while we grew up, and the brittleness of our relationship was the natural result, even if he thought he was doing what was best for us. If he was sad about that, well, that’s too bad — you reap what you sow.

Sometime after the call, I felt my guard soften and tenderness replaced the emotional wall I had erected. I felt the separation from my dad dropped away, and it was the same sense I’d written about a week and a half ago. My sister encouraging me to be kind to my dad was really me encouraging me to be kind to myself. Aren’t we all the same consciousness manifesting in different forms? Whatever I did unto others was what I’d be doing unto myself. It’s the same perspective encapsulated in Andy Weir’s wonderful short story, The Egg.

Even from a strictly selfish perspective, given that my dad will continue to be a presence in my life, improving our relationship would lead to greater well-being for myself and it would thus be worth putting in the effort. I’ve learned time and time again that holding onto resentment or harboring ill will does nothing more than create suffering for myself, and yet, I still often find it challenging to put that wisdom into practice by letting go.

I called him tonight, and we talked for 30 minutes, which is probably the longest conversation we’ve had in over a year. We talked about typical stuff like how he’s been getting on under quarantine (he’s bored) and what he does in his free time (practice the trumpet every day except for the weekend and watch lots of YouTube videos, comprising of historical Chinese dramas based in the early 1900s, travel videos, and classical concerts) as well as some interesting territory that we hadn’t touched before, like whether he has close friends (he did in Korea but not really since moving to the States a few years ago; he says that at his age, people focus more on their spouses than on their friendships).

I know that the default direction is to slip back into indifference and rationalize it by telling myself that I’m fully justified in living my life without concern for his well-being. But I’d like to move towards kindness and tenderness. Can I cultivate compassion and rejoice in his happiness? Not only him, but can I deeply aspire for the well-being of all beings and live from the wisdom and love that stems of recognizing the interconnectedness of all things?