The Zen of letting in: How common courtesy can be a tonic in life

The only way we can change things is by doing one small thing at a time

The simple act of applying the brakes on my car, of slowing down, of even coming to a full stop — all for someone else’s benefit — has changed me.

Like so many other people, I bemoan the loss of civility in modern urban life. Everyone (me, too) is in too much of a hurry, too worried about forgetting what needs to be done before we actually get it done. Too many of us don’t make time for anyone else (save, perhaps, immediate family members); conversely, no one (except that family) seems to make time for us. People litter, spit, drop cigarette butts and gum, throw their cold coffee out car windows.

Making eye contact is a disappearing art. I go into my local coffee shop, wait in line, am asked what I want, am given it, have my money taken and my change returned — all without the server/cashier looking up. And I won’t attempt to comment on people and their phones — mainly because I am too often guilty of that specific brand of rudeness myself.

But a few winters ago, driving through a supermarket parking lot and hearing the umpteenth rendition of some Christmas carol, I stopped to let someone cross in front of me. It was a conscious decision to try to “be nice.”

Then I did it again and over the following days, weeks, months and now years I have done it so often that it is almost automatic. A pedestrian waiting to cross the road? I stop. Not just to let them cross, but to provide protection of sorts from other traffic while they’re crossing.

A car waiting to turn into a line? I let ’em in. A shopper with an armload of groceries? Go ahead. And I make that eye contact, to let them know it’s safe (on my side of the road, anyway). A car signalling for an exit? I ease my foot slightly off the accelerator and let them into “my” lane.

Of course you can’t do it every time. I won’t stop busy traffic behind me to do my little altruistic thing. I’m often in a hurry, or preoccupied or in a screw-the-world mood. But I do it far more often than I used to and, honestly, it feels good.

This leads to the observation of that great “Friends” philosopher and Zen-master, Phoebe Buffay, who said there is no such thing as an unselfish act, because if it makes you feel better, it’s not unselfish. There is a lot of truth to that. It’s easy (for me, at least) to feel smug: e.g. I’m a better person than all those jerks who won’t slow or stop, and quite often speed up if they see someone infringing on their God-given space. And here I am blowing my own horn of self-righteousness in this article.

But here’s where my semi-selfinterest lies: My wife has some mobility issues and uses walking sticks. I am appalled by the number of people — drivers and even other walkers — who refuse to slow down or let in a woman who is not as young and spry as they are. (Who among us are?) Where is the courtesy? Where are the manners?

We can only change things one small individual act at a time. Most of us are not leaders or activists or founders of movements. We’re just people living our lives one day at a time, trying to set some sort of example for our children and grandchildren.

When another driver lets me in, I try to remember to give a brief wave, an acknowledgement, that they can see. I’m gratified to notice my son does the same thing now, acknowledging the simple courtesies that can, collectively, make this a more civil society.

But in the end, don’t fret about being unselfish. Let people in. Let people cross. Do it to remind yourself we’re all in this together. Do it to feel good or even smug or slightly selfrighteous.

Take your foot off the fast pedal once in a while. It really does make the ride better.

We’re just people living our lives one day at a time, trying to set

some sort of example for our children and grandchildren.