What's With The Kindness? 🌱

EDITION 6

I stared at my blank page earlier, willing the words to come out—as if sheer determination might summon them from wherever they were hiding.

You see, I had a surprise visit from my cousin and his family this week. They, in fact, landed today, earlier than anticipated. It's the kind of thing that fills your heart and empties your schedule in the best possible way. Between coordinations, catch-ups, and time spent, my writing time… vanished.

(Like batman in the night.)

And my brain happily decided to check out too. Unscheduled holiday? Check.

So here I sat, deadline long overdue, with nothing but the echo of last week's words about transformation and the vague notion that I should write something... profound.

Then it hit me—this moment is the perfect continuation of where we left off.

Because after unbecoming, after releasing old identities as we chatted about last week, there's a tender space that needs something specific: kindness.

Not just any kindness—the kind we struggle most to give ourselves.

This, dear friends, I'm calling, "The kindness gap."

Have you noticed how easily we show grace to others, yet withhold it from ourselves?

A friend misses a deadline: "Don't worry about it, life happens!" We miss a deadline: "What is wrong with me? I'm so unreliable/lazy/disorganized..."

A loved one needs rest: "Take care of yourself!" We need rest: "I don't have time for that. I need to push through."

Someone shares work that's not quite perfect: "Look at what you did, though? It's brave to share your process!" We consider sharing work that's imperfect: "I can't put this out. What will people say? It's just not good enough."

This gap between how we treat others and how we treat ourselves? That's where honest to goodness transformation often gets stuck in the mud.

Because becoming who we're meant to be isn't just about letting go of old identities. It's about how we treat ourselves in the vulnerable space between who we were and who we're becoming.

(Which often involves a couple more blips and bumps than anticipated.)

Enter, the false dichotomy.

I found myself caught in this familiar trap today: either put out something "worthy" or fail my commitment. Push through or give up. Perfect or nothing.

But what if there's a third option?

What if kindness itself is the "fair-weather" friend we've been needing to open up to all along? Not kindness as lowered standards. Not kindness as an excuse. But kindness as the acknowledgment that we're human, moving through a messy world, doing our best with what we have in each moment.

Sometimes that means writing through the haze. Sometimes it means sending a simpler letter than planned. Sometimes it means admitting that we're in that gloopy caterpillar soup phase (remember that from our messy middle conversation?) and that's exactly where we need to be just that little bit longer.

There's a bridge called kindness. In Brianna Wiest's words that I shared last week:

But here's what I'm learning to add: The bridge between who you were and who you're becoming is paved with small acts of self-kindness.

The gentleness to say: I'm not where I was. I'm not yet where I'm going. And that's okay.

The courage to show up as you are, not as you think you should be.

The wisdom to recognize that change, any kind of real transformation isn't linear or neat or Instagram-ready.

(Sorry, not sorry.)

Fall in love with the practice, not the destination.

My family's visit became a perfect laboratory for this very moment in time. Would I choose presence with people I love, or would I cling to the ideal of what I imagine a perfect writer identity to be? Would I beat myself up for a disrupted schedule, or embrace the joy of catch-ups and connection?

I chose the latter... mostly. (Let's be honest: old habits die hard, and I had at least three moments of intense self-criticism before remembering to breathe.)

But here's what I'm learning: Self-kindness isn't something you achieve once and for all. It's a practice you return to, over and over, and over… especially when it feels most difficult.

It's finding the courage to write these words today before the clock strikes a pumpkin (or after), knowing they aren't my most polished.

It's giving myself permission to be a flawed human in a world that often demands superhuman perfection.

It's the quiet voice that says, "This is enough. You are enough. Just as you are, right now. No more. No less."

So if you find yourself in that space between—not quite who you were, not quite who you're becoming—perhaps the kindest thing you can do is acknowledge the courage it takes to simply be here, showing up, doing your best with what you have perfectly imperfectly. And maybe, just maybe, that kindness is actually the transformation you've been looking for all along.

That's all for now.

Until next week.

Always light,

Shanna "practicing what I preach" Lindinger

P.S. If someone in your life needs permission to be a little more gentle with themselves during a messy time, feel free to forward this their way. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do is remind each other that we're all just doing our best.

WILDER ESSENTIALS

What's On Shanna’s List of Things Right Now

▶ Thinking Spot: Coastal path walks with the pooch

▶ Podcast pick: The Rich Roll Podcast

▶ Current read: The Mountain Is You by Brianna Wiest

▶ Writing setup: MacBook Pro + simple notebook and pen

WRITER OF THE WEEK

Kristin Neff: Pioneer of Self-Compassion
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Kristin Neff isn't just a researcher—she's the founding voice who brought self-compassion into mainstream understanding. Through rigorous research and personal practice, she reveals how treating ourselves with the same kindness we offer others transforms our relationship with failure, imperfection, and growth.

Her definition of self-compassion involves three elements: self-kindness, common humanity, and mindfulness. This isn't just theory. It's a revolutionary approach to wellbeing.

Neff reminds us that self-compassion isn't self-indulgence or lowered standards. In fact, her research shows that people who practice self-compassion are more likely to take responsibility for mistakes, persist through challenges, and maintain motivation without the harsh internal critic many of us default to.

Let’s keep exploring together