Lifeletter #110: The Trouble with Being Nice

My father was a brilliant and very nice person, who ended up living a profoundly unhappy life. So I’ve become very suspicious of the whole attempt to be nice. Being a nice person is a lot of work. It’s not easy to be nice. You have to stifle an awful lot of aliveness, a lot of fierceness, in order to keep on being so pleasant. The Facebook post that says, “Even the nicest people have their limits,” points to the same dilemma. Of course nice people have their limits! But when they have finally been reached, what do the nicest people do? Sometimes they go out and kill people. Have you noticed how often, when the neighbours of serial killers are interviewed, they say, “But I can’t imagine him doing such a thing. He was such a nice man.”

Perhaps being nice is kind of dangerous, and a long, long way from being truly good.

The real danger with being too nice for too long is that you really lose track of your ‘no’. Your real, genuine, authentic, instinctive ‘no’ gets buried under a mountain of niceness. You can’t protect your natural boundaries. You can’t look someone right in the eye and say, “No, I am not going to go along with that.” Or “No, I will not allow you to do that, in my home, in my room, on my computer, in my car…” Or, “No, I don’t have the time and energy to talk with you right now.”

We’ve mixed up love and being nice, and they are not the same. My fear of saying a real ‘no’ is all about me. I am afraid of what you will do to me. I am afraid of what will happen to me when you respond to my no. I am afraid of what you will think of me, what you will say about me to others. I am not really considering you at all. Because if I did, I might realize that you need to hear my no, and that it would be good for you, as well as for me. What’s true is always good for us, that’s the way things go with us human beings. The truth works. Especially in human relating. Pretending and avoiding and hiding will bring us nothing but suffering, in many different forms.

Love does have a gentle, tender, soft, beautiful face. And love has a fierce face. Look at Nature. There are butterflies and there are tigers. It’s very interesting and quite strange that we have decided that only one of these faces is loving. As if ‘yes’ and ‘yes’ alone is the voice of love. We have to be butterflies always, tigers are taboo. If we believe this, we end up tip-toeing through our lives, trying to avoid all forms of conflict. It’s quite exhausting. Without my no, I can’t take care of myself. Without that beautiful fierceness I can’t stand up for myself-I am cut off at the knees.

Finding our fierce compassion is not easy. I have struggled with it all my life. Our conditioning in this area is ancient and very potent. We have to awaken from what most of our ancestors taught us about love too. What did your grandparents teach you about saying no? About being real? I had one grandmother who was pretty fierce. I’m still grateful for the small shocks she delivered to me when I was very young, about how open and direct it was possible to be, with my fellow human beings.

And it’s not only about speaking our ‘no’. We also have to learn how to hear and receive no’s from the people in our lives. How much space are you able to give people to say ‘no’ to you? How much room do you have for taking in, really receiving a ‘no’ when it is offered to you? It’s pretty edge territory is it not? For most of us, not just some of us. We need a lot of practice. I’ve been thinking lately about throwing a fierce compassion party; where everyone shows up in order to practice their no’s.

“Will you dance with me?” No thanks.

“Can I offer you a piece of my amazing angel food cake?” Thanks, but no.

“Do you like my new dress?” Actually, no I don’t.”

“I want to tell you about the terrible thing that happened at work today.” Well, I’m not ready to hear that right now.

“Would you like to help me clean up afterwards?” Not really.

The trouble with being nice is that you spend your whole life being everyone but yourself. You abandon all the wild, untamed parts of you that are so much more than nice. You forget that’s why you came here: to be you, to find out what you love, what you want, what you have to give.

 

When they say Don’t I know you?
say no.

When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering…

If they say We should get together
say why?

It’s not that you don’t love them anymore.
You’re trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished…

Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.

 

-The Art of Disappearing, Naomi Shihab Nye

 

with love

Shayla