lifestyle – Page 24

We are hardwired to be kind

Dr. Brian Goldman is an emergency physician at Toronto’s Mount Sinai Hospital. (photo by Christopher Wahl)

According to Dr. Brian Goldman, author of The Power of Kindness: Why Empathy is Essential in Everyday Life (HarperCollins Publishers, 2018), we all have the innate ability to be kind, gentle and to give of ourselves without the need to get anything in return.

Goldman, who works as an emergency physician at Mount Sinai Hospital in Toronto, said the idea for The Power of Kindness had been germinating in his mind for a long time.

“I had originally pitched a book on empathy and health care,” he said, “and my publisher, HarperCollins, came back to me and asked why I don’t instead aim a little broader and write a book about empathy in the world at large, not focus just on the hospital.”

About the concept, he said, “The wise physician knows how to say, ‘I don’t know.’ The book doesn’t say how it feels to say ‘I don’t know’ 17 times in a row. At some point, you’re terrified that they’re going to say, ‘Why don’t you get us someone here right now who can answer our questions?’ And you’re afraid of being unmasked as being inadequate.”

In recognizing this in himself, Goldman decided to travel the world to speak to some of the kindest people to hopefully internalize their kindness and find ways to pass their enlightenment onto others. In doing this, he said, “I found answers and, for the rest, you’re going to have to read the book. But, I will tell you one thing. I found that some people are born with empathy.

“I found one extraordinary child,” he said, by way of example, “who was nicknamed ‘Ta Ta.’ And he, at the time that I met him, was [almost] 3 years old. His mom, Shala, adopted a man on the streets of Sao Paulo who had been homeless for nearly 40 years and called him her soulmate. The striking thing about her situation is that her son, as a toddler … without ever having known what his mom had done, adopted his own homeless man. You can’t make that up.

“At a time, whatever nurturing she provided had set the stage for him to be as empathic as her. But, he [also] feels things and understands things intuitively about Adriano, the man who he befriended in the same way that Shala did.”

Goldman met people for whom empathy comes naturally and some who are gifted in empathy, but he also realized that we all share the same common experiences – adversity, disappointment, shock, loneliness, physical ailments and failure.

“I think, more often than not, it’s these experiences that are the engine for empathy,” said Goldman. “Because, after that, you can either die or you can pay it forward. And the way you pay it forward is to provide comfort and empathy for people who are going through what you went through. That was probably the common denominator that I saw again and again.

“Shame-based people tend to absorb the idea that they cannot make a mistake. If they do, it will be the end of everything.

“My intuitive guess is that a lot of health professionals feel that way and that’s why they go into the health professions … because they are hoping that, if they can do enough good works, it will make up for the one mistake they made.

“I was very much like that. I wasn’t totally like that, because, if I were more like that, I’d be unaware of all the things I’m saying right now.”

According to Goldman, kindness and empathy are the ability to imagine what it is like to be somebody else, to see things through their eyes and act accordingly, to put yourself in their place.

“Unless you have a narcissistic personality disorder, in which your brain circuits will show you’re less capable of empathy, you’re capable of empathy,” said Goldman. “Everyone is hardwired for empathy. But, the thing is that, at the highest levels of executive function, empathy is a choice and we are constantly being distracted by competing priorities – my needs versus yours, my family versus your family. I’m running around like a pinball … boy, that’s a dated metaphor … but I can’t be all things to all people all the time. It’s impossible. Somebody is going to judge what I’ve delivered as unkind care.

“To become more kind in everyday life,” he said, “first of all, believe in your hardwiredness to be capable of being kind and empathic. Know that there are things that get in the way and they are very stereotypical – lack of face-to-face time, spending more time on social media, contacting people on social media, and less time on listening and face-to-face and being able to recognize cues that say that somebody’s more unhappy than their words are telling you.”

Goldman suggests learning which factors get in your way and to start creating ways that work for you to push those distractions aside. In The Power of Kindness, he talks about breathing exercises – about how we get distracted by unpleasant thoughts and feelings and how to re-centre ourselves and allow the negativity to float away.

“I use the metaphor of a parade,” he said. “There are beautiful floats and they represent nice thoughts – happy things that have happened or that I’m looking forward to – and you let them float by without judging them. Then, every once in awhile, there is a lousy float that’s ugly – the boss who is yelling at you, the coworker or somebody who you think is whispering about you behind your back, or the person who gave you the finger in traffic when you were both driving.

“The reason I like the float metaphor is that, with a lousy float, you let it go by – you imagine you’re in the stands, reviewing the floats as they go by. If it’s a parade, you let it go by, because there will be another nice one down the road in a couple of minutes.”

As for what sort of reception the book has garnered so far, Goldman said it has been very positive.

“Maybe the world is ready for a book like this because we’re all living at such a time when … people are going for kill shots on Twitter and there’s so much nastiness…. We’re watching, in the United States, kids being separated from their parents and put into cages. We need kindness.”

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

The benefits from repetition

Repetition is good for us. (I may have said this before!) If you exercise, you’re in touch with “reps” or, if you walk your dog, you’ve been down this block with someone sniffing at the end of the leash before. If you’re rolling your eyes in boredom as you stand in a line, way too much of life seems to be about waiting patiently and repetition.

Jewish tradition has lots of “rinse and repeat” kinds of moments in it. If you read the Torah portion regularly, phrases like, “And Moses said,” pop out frequently. If you’re already preparing meals or family gatherings for upcoming holidays, you may reflect on how often you’ve done this before. It would be wrong to ignore the feeling of drudgery that sometimes accompanies all this. There are definitely times, as I try to figure out how to fit in all the prep, when I wonder if it’s so meaningful to do it again. And again.

Two recent experiences reminded me that we get something out of this repetition thing.

The first was one of those ubiquitous parenting articles that mention the value of self-care and meditation. Sometimes it’s easier to dismiss such suggestions. Yes, I’ve thought, but who will watch the kids, make dinner and earn the money while we’re doing all this trendy stuff?

However, I happened to hear a tidbit at services recently about Rosh Chodesh. Bill Weissman was leading a Sunday minyan at the start of the month of Elul. He reminded everyone about the association of women with the beginning of the month, mentioning that, aside from tending small babies, women were supposed to have a day off. In some Jewish communities, women don’t do certain kinds of work on the holiday, perhaps avoiding laundry or other tedious jobs. In fact, Jewish tradition teaches us that we need breaks. Scheduled activities, like a learning group, a meditation circle or even a standing coffee date, enable us to take better care of ourselves, whether it’s scheduled for Rosh Chodesh or every Tuesday.

The second experience that brought this all together occurred on the same weekend but the day before. One of my twins was feeling sick and was on antibiotics, so he stayed home with Daddy. I took the other twin on a Shabbat date. We went to family services together. Usually, while this kid dances and participates, he doesn’t read or engage with every prayer. My other twin sings along to everything, but makes up his own words. That’s fine. I figure they both enjoy themselves and get something out of being there. (For me, attending services is all part of that repetitive self-care thing, but it’s hard to get the most out of it with twins along for the ride.)

To my surprise, this Shabbat, a switch flipped in my kid’s 7-year-old brain. He sang and davened every prayer. He engaged completely. He wanted to be involved and responded to everything at the service – he even heard something interesting during the announcements. During the month of Elul, we blow the shofar during morning minyan.

Later, when I said how proud I was to hear him sing and say all the prayers, I asked what had happened. He explained that he likes to be quiet until he knows something perfectly. He decided he knew things well enough, so now he can say them all. It was as if buzzers were going off in my “educator” brain. Bing! This kid is an introvert. This is how introverts often process and learn new material. It’s about quiet introspection and repetition.

The next morning, I still had one sick twin and one healthy one. The healthy introvert announced that he wanted to attend that morning’s minyan. He cheerfully got through the hour-long service on Rosh Chodesh. He joked with many of the minyan regulars, participated, and he heard the shofar. It was a meaningful experience for him. I am still feeling celebratory about it many days later!

How did we get to this point? It wasn’t a one-time experience. I didn’t create a high-pressure event where I brought my children to one service, asked them to tell me if they enjoyed it and expected them to make a decision about their religious observance as a result. When we learn at school or while doing a sport, there are a lot of drills involved. It can be boring or reflective, but maybe it doesn’t matter.

We need to keep repeating things – Jewish content, CPR training, swimming lessons, whatever – until it sticks. You can’t give yourself a chance to make or eat a good holiday meal or have a meaningful religious experience if you haven’t practised. Recipes, prayers, exercise and meditation, among other things, don’t generally come out right the first time. Is it sometimes boring to do one’s exercise, cooking or other life tasks? Oh, you bet. However, nobody ever said that taking care of yourself, your household, relationships and work would be easy.

Some things aren’t fascinating. Even so, all that repetition can be good for us. Repetition teaches life skills. Learning the discipline needed to stick to something and practise it? That’s well worth taking time to learn. Repetition offers our bodies and minds a lot of healthy habits. Jewish communities and activities offer these skills. Just keep going. (It’s about showing up.)

Joanne Seiff writes regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. See more about her at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Talmudic advice on life, work

If you listen to lifestyle advice, finding one’s work-life balance has never been harder. Indeed, work obsesses many of us 24/7. We’re always struggling to find time for family, household and leisure activities. Like every generation, we think we’ve invented a new problem.

It only takes a little while studying Jewish texts to respond to this with a “Don’t be ridiculous!” Yes, our technology makes our work lives faster and more omnipresent, but, in Jewish tradition, we’ve been discussing and debating how to balance these issues for thousands of years.

When I started thinking about this, I remembered how many detailed tips are available to us by studying Midrash and Talmud. There are discussions about how much sleep we need. Depending on their profession, there are views about how many times a week men are obligated to be intimate with their wives. There is advice on how to raise your (Jewish) children and how to take care of your livestock.

By the way, in case you raise livestock (for work or fun) or have pets, you should always feed them first, before you eat. Is that irrelevant? Not in my household, where we conscientiously feed our dogs first every morning and evening, before breakfast and dinner. (It cuts down on begging at the table, too.)

A few weeks ago, a new start-up that works on networking and advice for people in university alumni communities asked me to participate in a career path interview. It was done entirely online. I was happy to do it, because it struck me as a useful exercise. New university graduates might be able to learn from older peers, and gain useful information and connections. I responded to the questions without hesitation.

Although I listed plenty of professional qualifications, I focused on how important it was to be flexible, evolving and intellectually curious as your life changes. In my experience, things like getting married, having health issues or kids, or moving affect your career path enormously. I figured this was not news to anyone, but that it was advice worth offering to 20-somethings or career changers.

To my surprise, someone at the start-up contacted me and asked if they could feature me in a “career journeys” email. At first, I thought, “Sure, why not?” I even wondered if it might bring in more writing or editing jobs. Then I read their draft.

Their draft email sandwiched my photo and quote in between two male professionals, a medical physician/specialist and a virtual reality DJ. The quote they chose for me highlighted that moving for my husband’s academic career forced me reinvent myself to find paying work and to stay competitive.

I was the only woman featured, and the only professional whose married status was mentioned first. I felt angry. Why were my peers’ work credentials front and centre but, for me, it was about marital status and career sacrifice for a partner?

I asked them to cut me from their interview or significantly revise what they posted. I pointed out why. They responded quickly, apologized, and let me revise the text so that it featured what I brought, as a professional, to the conversation rather than my gender or family status. In the end, my quote read: “You do not need to know ‘what you want to be when you grow up’ when you are 18 or 21. We need to be flexible, evolving and intellectually curious.”

So far, at least, I have heard nothing as a result of the e-newsletter’s publication but, at least, I’m not embarrassed by it.

Twenty years ago, this past June, our wedding program featured a quote from Bava Metsia 59a. It came from what Rav Papa said to Abaye: “If your wife is short, bend down and listen to your wife, and whisper in her ear.” If you’ve ever met me (and my partner) in person, you know that I am certainly short … and the key to keeping a healthy balance is in these discussions, too. If we want to maintain good work lives and, more importantly, healthy, happy overall lives, we need to listen to one another, and value what we each bring to the table.

Sometimes, it’s hard work to maintain a marriage, raise kids, or even feed the dogs promptly before we eat. The technology aspect of the work-life balance makes us think that it’s all new, but something was always the newest thing in every generation. Rather, look at it another way. We aren’t alone. Network backwards. We’re lucky to be bolstered by thousands of years of good Jewish advice. Just like our ancestors, we’re free to sift through it and take what works best for us.