Preface

The book you are holding is more than paper, ink, and glue. It’s an emblem of my 18
years on Martha’s Vineyard from shy toddler to almost-adult; it’s rare vulnerability from those I
know and I love; it’s a healing project; it’s Vineyard love, kindness, and strength. Most of all,
it’s a source of hope.
I was inspired by NPR’s radio show and books entitled​ This I Believe​, a collection of
essays on personal philosophies. My project is a little different from the original ​This I Believe​ in
that I invited those whom I know personally to write an essay, rather than drawing on the
wisdom of famous authors, island celebrities, or artists.
I was told that writing an essay for my book was a “powerful exercise in vulnerability.”
This is the truth. When I read the original ​This I Believe​, I was in a dark place, frightened, and
rapidly losing faith in myself and the world. Reading the stories gave me a sliver of hope that
one day I would figure things out. Now, when I slip back into that darkness, reading these essays
has the power to help bring me out.
This book has torn down boundaries in a way I never expected it could. Students had no
idea that their teacher’s father is slowly losing his life to cancer. Mothers kept their ex-husband’s
ill-fated mistakes from their children. Friends held back tears for fear of rejection or judgement.
And sometimes, we were simply too rushed getting the kids dressed or making a deadline that
we didn’t stop to share our beliefs or utter our fears to those we trust.
We tend to divide professional from personal, objective from subjective, exterior from
interior. These walls are protective and necessary and usually appropriate. But the divide can
make us perceive each other as a little less human and a little more perfect, put-together or even
apathetic. What would happen if we tore down the barriers for just a few moments to show the
community just how human we are? Would we judge and pity and mock each other? I don’t
think so. I believe we would feel grateful and empathetic and reinvigorated.
While reading these personal beliefs, I couldn’t help but wonder: What makes a person
lead a fulfilling life? What quality is common to each author I chose and what makes each one
special to me? How can I draw on the wisdom within these pages?
 After much reflection and reading from Piero Ferrucci’s book ​The Power of Kindness​, I
found answers. Kindness, to oneself and to others, is the uniting force of the essays. It might not
be the kindness we all think of, like saying ‘please’ or helping someone with their groceries.
Ferrucci asserted the 18 qualities of kindness are honesty, warmth, forgiveness, contact, sense of
belonging, trust, mindfulness, empathy, humility, patience, generosity, respect, flexibility,
memory, loyalty, gratitude, service, and joy. A kind person need not act with all 18 of these
simultaneously. Simply reaching out to a friend from 20 years ago or going to a yoga class or
taking a hot bath after a long day is loyalty, mindfulness, and warmth. We are inherently kind.
Despite this commonality, each essay is authentic. Lives are remarkably different, and
even similar experiences are perceived uniquely. Is each essayist leading a fulfilling life? I think
so. Fulfillment is meaningfulness, and each author certainly has a meaningful story to tell.
Ferrucci wrote, “Strange but true: If everything always went smoothly, we would take for
granted all that was beautiful and would not fully appreciate the gifts of life.” Each author has
seen life for what it is--full of suffering and hope, hatred and love, failures and successes.
I often struggle with reconciling one’s ability to be kind and one’s ability to be cruel.
Perhaps the reason I am so invested in understanding kindness is because I don’t believe I am as
kind as I could be. On a daily basis, I feel envy and hatred, and I judge those around me by their
past behaviors. I act cold and I don’t take the time to talk with someone because I’m in too much
of a rush. And yet, there are moments where I am warm and easygoing, compassionate and
supportive, tolerant and patient. How can this be? I have yet to understand this paradox, but for
now, I will accept it. I will allow the balance and work towards increasing those moments of
kindness while simultaneously forgiving myself for those moments I am not.
As humans, we are always changing. We hear different perspectives, see new things, and
touch the lives of strangers every single day. Who’s to say I won’t change my mind about all of
these assertions tomorrow? Life could throw me a curveball; my beliefs could shatter. After all,
“Pain is, in varying doses, a companion for life. But not all its effects are tragic...it digs deep
inside us; opens us, sometimes violently… and perhaps [develops] our humility and wisdom. It is
a harsh reminder of what is essential. It can connect us to others.” I will always recover from the
curveballs and build new beliefs, hopefully with increasing strength and positivity. Above all, I
will never lose sight of the importance of kindness to oneself.

*******

Each of the following essays includes a signature photo of the author’s hands, each
representing the wisdom they carry with them every day. The essays are in random order, but
essays from families are consecutive. There are some themes woven throughout the book based
on my Vineyard spheres -- Red Pony Farm, the Martha’s Vineyard Regional High School, etc.
Every seven essays or so, quotes from Italian psychoanalyst Piero Ferrucci’s ​The Power of
Kindness​ are given. His work has inspired me immensely.
As you read each essay, I suspect you will see a different side to somebody you know or
have heard about through the Vineyard grapevine. In order to protect boundaries, my one request
is that you refrain from approaching authors about the personal experiences about which they
wrote. Instead, seek out the author(s) whose essay touched you deeply. Give them a hug or a
smile or a cookie. Any act of kindness will suffice.
We all have a story, whether heartbreaking, humorous or motivational. To come together
in understanding and acceptance, we must stop and listen to the inner lives of those around us.