By Andreea Goian
Today, I stepped out the door with kindness as my intention. Focused on that word, kindness, my feet already rushing ahead to the end of my street, I began to wonder what it truly meant to be kind. For me, to choose gentleness again and again through pain and hardship and chaos was not the same as innocent kindness or naivety: the kind that comes effortlessly to children through their inexperience. It means choosing vulnerability and niceness even through tough times, not only when it is easy or convenient, and remaining soft despite the world attempting to harden your shell. It is not easy to be kind all the time, but that’s what makes it so remarkable.
My feet slowed, came to a stop. Kindness, remember? That includes towards yourself. So as I neared the end of my little street, I took my hands out of my pockets, tilted my head up to the sky, and exhaled all my grievances that I’d carried over from the day before, the week before, my whole life. The sun peppered my face with kisses while the cold nipped at my nose and the wind caressed my hair. Gentleness, vulnerability, kindness. Continuing on my walk, slower this time, I began observing the world around me, unfolding from its sleep the night before.
On my way to nowhere, I stopped to grab a coffee and within the coffee shop observed a few things: firstly, the warmth of the shop and the smell of freshly baked, crumbly, delicious pastries. I noticed the chatter of those around me, and the baristas bustling about behind the counter making drinks. I smile at her, the woman behind the till; who could be me, or you, or any of us; and give her my order. I complimented her, and her entire face lit all the way up, eyes widening and mouth slowly relaxing into a smile. It’s satisfying, I realised, making other people happy, handing out compliments doesn’t cost anything, yet the rewards that I reap are greater than anything money could pay for.
Kindness is observation
Coffee in hand, I left the shop, continuing my amble into Durham. I passed Farmwellgate bridge and stopped again to look up at the Cathedral. It’s stunning, and looked almost fake from the angle I stood. Edited in, as if someone thought it would complement the bright blue sky behind it and the vibrant green foliage that envelops it. Kindness is observation. Taking the time to look for the joy and beauty in the running water beneath the bridge, ducks floating merrily along. There is beauty in the visible puffs of air that leave my mouth when I breathe, even as I mourn the warmer summer months.
I observe all the little things I don’t normally notice when I rush to and from lectures— headphones blasting and eyes glued to the ground as if I’d lost a needle and desperately needed it back—love is everywhere: in the couple who walk ahead of me and hold hands, in the crisp yet gentle autumn breeze, in the way the leaves reach towards the sun, or roll across the road in their beautiful shades of red and orange. The Cathedral, towering and charting my path each day, the river, the cobbled streets, all elements of the same lovely city, waiting every day to be noticed.
Inevitably, we all get caught up in our own lives, problems, worries, and forget that such a world waits for us through every single hardship; unwavering. It would be better for everyone if we took the time to be grateful for the beauty that is around us. It would force us out of our old routines into new connections with each other and the environment around us. Perhaps this is optimistic – but what would Durham really look like if we were all a little kinder?
If there’s anything I’ve learned from my time in Durham, it’s that love and kindness are all around, you only need to take the time to notice.
Image credit: Andreea Goian