A kind heart is sometimes smartest
It doesn’t take much to humble me regarding what it means to be smart.
I’m awful at “Jeopardy,” I’m worse at trivia, and I can hardly keep up with my grandkids knowledge of the animal kingdom or science experiments. Reflecting on my expertise base (or lack thereof ) led me to think about what it means to be smart. Intellectual capabilities aside, smartness comes in many varieties.
Some people are streetsmart. I know a few of those who can navigate life with practical skills: everything from talking themselves out of a speeding ticket to traversing across Europe with a map and a toothbrush. These people own confidence and intuitive ability to avoid common roadblocks that might derail the moment. Needless to say, my track record of defending a speeding ticket is nonexistent.
Some people are booksmart. Those that write college essays based on classic literature, or read the New York Times book review with a highlighter have my admiration. I love these people because their minds remain in a constant state of aliveness, rich with the presence of characters and stories found in paperbacks and shared book club discussions. Cherished books remain in the mind’s crevices like a welcome companion. Friendship with favorite characters can foster relationships that linger far beyond the turn of the last page. I always wanted to be Louisa May Alcott’s fifth sister in “Little Women.”
And then there’s artsmart — where sculptors, print makers, painters and photographers enliven the world with their displays of creativity. Dreaming beyond a block of marble to create a living sculpture, or seeing through a camera lens to capture nature’s pause, is awesome. Such expressions bring color, imagination and delight to a bland palate, restoring splendor and magnificence to the unimagined.
Smarts in any capacity is generally a good thing. What’s often overlooked is the ability to be heart-smart. If you live long enough, unexpected adversity invades ordinary existence. Many of us feel, at times, like we own the patent on pain. Offering an empathetic touch is transforming. The ability to look someone in the eye when despair cloaks their vision can offer a clearing toward light. Positioning yourself at the kitchen table of a friend in need tells them they are not as isolated as they might think. The hug, the pasta casserole, showing up to cut the grass, or a simple note of support create the tutorial of heart instruction. It takes just one episode of receiving that can exponentially transform the act of giving. It’s a good reminder to know we are not alone.
Likewise, the ability to share in another’s unfiltered joy only makes the nectar of celebration that much sweeter.
The best part about being heart-smart is that such education is not learned in isolation. Compassion expands other hearts with surety of how to offer gentility and kindness.
Thank goodness there are people who enlighten the room with awareness that expands knowing. I appreciate all people who encapsulate the art of teaching. Whether book-smart, history-smart or artsmart, such expertise cannot be understated in our greater good. Truth be told, however, I love those who are teachers of the heart. There are a multitude of ways we can hug someone else, those who find a way to thread the needle of pain with intentional kindness just might be the superheroes in what it means to be smart.
As Maya Angelou said, “People will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” Now, that is smart.