Intoku.

I met someone recently that invited me to explore the concept of intoku. When I looked up what intoku meant, I found a few definitions with a common theme: good done in secret, specifically the act of doing good secretly, for its own sake. Has a similar feel to altruism, but not quite.

I had intended to write about this concept and then things went a bit offsides in a few different areas of my life, for reasons I did not anticipate. I suppose that’s the way life works, anyway. No? We are endlessly thrown challenges to navigate. Or ignore. Or blow past.

This past week was one of the hardest of my professional career. I won’t get into why, because it’s fairly unimportant where this piece is concerned. The only meaningful takeaway is that the coping skills that I’ve honed and fine tuned over the years seemed far beyond my reach.

I don’t know if you swim, but if you do, and if you’ve had the pleasure of swimming in the ocean (Atlantic to be precise), then you may have experienced the power and discomfort of being swept away. Relentlessly hit by waves to the point where you are spending more time reminding yourself to breathe than anything else. I know, this sounds horrible to those of you who have not had this experience, but it’s not. Well, it is, and it’s not. It’s humbling. It’s a reminder, an important one.

It’s a reminder of the power of Mother Nature, the power of the universe, the powerlessness of being human, the ways in which we have to work to control our bodies and our minds, beyond our instincts.

That was, in so many ways, my week.

I had to remind myself to breathe.

Remind myself that so many things were out of my control.

Remind myself that I could only control certain things and I had to make peace with that eye in the storm.

Remind myself to try and rest, to move my body, to give it nutrients.

The basics.

It’s funny what happens when you are in such a mode. Everything around you is all at once fuzzy and crystal clear. I saw how people showed up, in little and big ways. I saw the truth in their compassion and love. I saw others around me who turned cold and harsh and critical. I felt the condescension and the lack of regard and the absolute selfishness.

As you know by now, I think (if you’ve followed along), I don’t often ask people to show up for me. It’s not my nature. It’s not how I’m built. It makes me feel needy and guilty and vulnerable. And so, when people show up anyway, it always brings me to my knees. My gratitude is massive. I don’t even know how to respond, to give back, to demonstrate how appreciative I am. I say thank you, but that feels woefully insufficient. It’s so much more than that.

And so, first and foremost, this post is a massive thank you to those who showed up, big and small. Some of whom didn’t even know they were showing up. Some who were just checking in, as they are apt to do, but in those moments of darkness, their presence was a gift. That normalcy was a hug.

Beyond that, was the clarity in those moments. People, their character, their public persona, their guts.

I started to think back to a few weeks ago when I first researched intoku. Good done in secret. Doing good without credit. Doing good in a way where you want to serve others. Not for a ‘gram post, or a pat on the back, but just the space it makes in your heart.

I can tell you that the people who showed up for me, in my small circle, that’s pure gold. They are loving and kind and generous. And others, who exist in the periphery and gave me an ‘atta’ girl, I saw right through the bullshit. A push to the finish under the guise of kindness. I’m not fooled. I didn’t subscribe to that channel, and I played along because it wasn’t worth the energy expenditure to do otherwise, but I saw, I see.

I know I’ve changed, because that doesn’t really hurt me anymore. It doesn’t make me feel disappointed in humans. I just see it for what it is: an agenda. They need me and they think the way to get me is to lie and connive and manipulate. I can only try and find a place of compassion within me for those folks, because that’s a deeply lonely practice and one that strips away all the good bits of us as humans.

And still, that wasn’t what I really got to in those moments. It wasn’t just about how the world was reacting to me and how I was reacting to IT. I had the ability to reevaluate so many other moments I’ve experienced in the last few months. There were so many situations that I allowed myself to lean into, to feel, without really examining or exploring. I’m a deeply thoughtful person (sometimes too much) and I tend to dig and dig, and yet, I allowed myself time to not do that. To free myself of that burden. I was introspective in the way that I needed to be to stay connected to me, but I didn’t analyze every single moment.

Situations occurred and then moved out of my life, and I just took every moment as it happened. I accepted it as a moment, a lesson, a breath. Of course, I had ‘why’ moments, and moments questioning myself, but they were brief and I worked to not sit with them.

I try and do good in my life. Good that’s visible, and good that’s quiet. Secret. Picking up a garbage can on my run when the wind has blown it over. Planting flowers in a barren space in a park. Leaving a new book on an airplane seat with a scrawled note on the inside cover imploring a stranger to enjoy it.

But maybe the greatest act of good done in secret, maybe the purest form of intoku, is the act of forgiveness. The act of letting go. The act of not over analyzing and over thinking and wondering and replaying.

Maybe it’s just letting it be.

Maybe it’s the silence we let sit.

Maybe it’s not wondering why, always, but acceptance.

Maybe it’s knowing that even if it doesn’t make sense, even if people are not as they seem, even if decisions are regretted or questioned, it is all a gift from the universe.

Lessons, taught in the silence.

Secret lessons in sitting with the idea that even when the tough is here, the good will come, and show itself.

Always.

X

L.