Granola Bars. Relentless Compassion & F Bombs

One of my previous posts was about my granola bar practice. Today we delve into Relentless Compassion & F Bombs. A granola bar practice. Granola bars really have changed my life.

Previously, I discussed how I had experienced almost no negativity, anger or danger from that practice. It brought me great healing and continues to be an important practice in my life. I read through comments from many people, on social media or said to me directly, and I was so grateful that it inspired a few people to start offering help (granola bar or other).

What about the F Bombs?

I noticed a few responses that touched on difficulty with this practice, such as not wanting a granola bar, demanding money or even having the offer met with anger. It was the ‘I tried’ mentality and seemed to be the reason for stopping the practice. ‘They’ don’t want granola bars. I want to expand on my explanation of the practice, using my own experience and discussing another layer of it; non-judgment and relentless compassion.

On the very day that I posted the article, I saw a man on the side of the street holding a sign that requested help. He had a large dog with him. I watched him pour clean water into a container and give it to his dog. Feeling touched by the compassion he had towards the giant fur ball, I asked him if he’d like a granola bar. He told me that he could not fucking want a granola bar less and that he was trying to not be fucking rude to me. The light turned green and I drove off, as he yelled something at me that was indiscernible. I did catch the words ‘unless I can smoke…’ It was ironic that this happened on the very day I posted about how much I love the granola bar practice because this was the first F bomb I had experienced in my granola bar practice. Perfect timing!

Granola Bar Guy

Recently I saw him and decided to try again or at least, talk to him. I opened my window, began with a friendly hello and continued with “I know you really, really didn’t want a granola bar last time I stopped, like it was a very hard no, but I thought I’d stop again and see if you wanted one today”. In no way did the man look aggressive. In fact, he looked around my age and I had a soft spot for the dog that was always with him.

Over the course of a single three minute red light, he told me to fuck off, never speak to him again, that my existence pissed him right off, and that I should look at myself because I had no purpose in life. I was a joke. He then told me I was useless but hey, I had gotten him to put his sign down for a moment and talk to him, which all the other cars saw so I guess I was useful for one thing in this life. I told him ‘I was only offering to help’. Rage built up inside me; reactivity and fear. I focused on my breath and watched his movement carefully and cautiously. Attempting to listen to his abrasive rant without disturbing it, as best I could.

The F Bombs Continue. Granola Bar Fail

He asked me what kind of stupid idiot hands out granola bars; what was next, a fresh apple? He then told me to think more abstract, that I was a useless fucking joke with my granola bars and that I have no fucking clue. Yikes. I tried to ask him if there was anything I could do to help him however I wasn’t able to finish the sentence because he began yelling again. Did I even have a job? Or kids?  I said “yes, I am a single mother”. He stopped for a moment and said “oh, single mother…do you work with kids and stuff – trying to help them? That must be a hard job”. Then he put his hand in my window to shake it. I was frozen and unsure, so I evaluated what to do in that moment.

A few things ran through my head

– He had been very abrasive and suddenly shifted. Was this safe?

– He used his left hand to reach out for a handshake and it was close to my body (in the window). I had watched him pour water for his dog many times. The image came into my mind.  This man was right handed. Reaching in with his left hand meant his right was free. That was unusual. He could easily have harmed me with his dominate arm and held my left down. I felt my intuition say ‘don’t touch him’ so I didn’t.

– There is no need to shake hands with someone who speaks to me like that or anyone I am uncomfortable with. This goes for everyone. I heard a piece of advice one time that I have lived by. Do no harm; take no shit. Personally, I do my best to avoid harm and that includes harm to myself.

I looked at his hand and then looked at him. So much restraint and energy was required in order to refrain from lashing back at him that I had tears in my eyes. He told me “I’m just messing with you… take a joke…you have to have thicker skin…” I managed to look at him and say “Well I don’t”. In fact, I have tissue paper-like skin. The light turned green and I drove away as he yelled at me a bit more about never speaking to him again and no more fucking granola bars. Noted.

But Why, Granola Bar Guy?

Then I did what most self-respecting, well-adjusted women would do in that situation. I started crying. After processing this experience (aka crying), I decided to write a follow-up post on my granola bar practice. My experience with this man was real life. It is what every person who chooses to help will experience at one point or another. The practice is so much more about the offer to help and not judging the response you get or the person you’re offering help to because you will not always receive the gratitude you want, expect or hope for. But it’s not about that.

Why does it matter that I felt so sad about someone yelling at me? Why does that matter in this context?

Because the reason I was sad is likely the same reason he lashed out at me.

The Reality of Reaction

I had had a long, hard day and was tired, hungry, stressed, worried and in rush hour traffic. Vulnerability and a feeling of exhaustion was with me before I even approached him. Brene Brown, an astounding teacher and researcher, speaks very wisely about vulnerability and the reality of what it truly feels like, how it impacts us and normalizing it. I was at the end of my rope. So I cried. Would I have cried under those circumstances had I had a great day? Maybe. Or perhaps I would have driven away earlier. Maybe I wouldn’t have sat there and allowed him to speak to me that way. But I did.

Perhaps he had a hard day, has a very hard life and felt vulnerable. One could perhaps entertain the idea that he didn’t see any purpose to his own life and was frustrated with everyone because he was frustrated with himself. Maybe his reaction to me was a reflection of how he was feeling about himself and his own life. That made me feel deeply sad and compassionate towards this man, lashing out as a way to say ‘I need help’. It would be unskillful of me to take his words personally. Yes, they did trigger my tears. But that was MY hard day coming out. After reflection, I thought a lot about this man.

What that man said to me was not personal. He has no idea who I am, nor can he define purpose for a stranger given that I can barely define purpose for my own life. On a logical level, I can see that his words about me are not true. He was furious and the topic of not having purpose came up multiple times. Who do you think he was really talking about? Me? Or himself?

Relentless Compassion in the face of F Bombs

What do we do when this occurs? How do you find motivation to keep trying to help people when someone screams at you multiple times for simply offering food?

The reality is that people are suffering. You have suffered. I have suffered. In order to help, we need to be relentlessly compassionate and keep our expectations in check. The granola bar practice will challenge you on many levels and true growth comes from continuing to be relentlessly compassionate.  In the same way this man has no idea what my life is about, I know nothing of his. I know nothing of what prompted that reaction. I do know that when I’ve felt the most despair, I could not easily accept any form of help. Maybe he felt like that too.

Relentless compassion will keep you going (including towards yourself) when these moments bring you down. It can be disheartening but it doesn’t need to be a determinant of your future actions, nor is it going to be everyone’s response. It might happen to you, as it did to me. Potentially many times. I don’t know if anything I did helped that man; my hope is that I did not harm him and that I don’t let his words harm me. Relentless Compassion.

Granola Bar expectations

Service to others is not always received in the way we expect. Sometimes service to others means accepting whatever reaction arises and making choices that reduce harm. In this way, we can move past moments like this by remembering that suffering is universal. You may have never been on the street; asking for money, drugs or whatever else he may have accepted but I can guarantee, you have suffered and reacted in ways you wish had been more skillful. I certainly have. My least skillful reactions have always arisen from moments of deep suffering. Reactive, impulsive, emotionally driven.

Skillful response takes practice and support. And help. That’s why we keep helping. Relentlessly. Relentless compassion. For yourself, for granola bar guy and for all the moments in between.